Of Saints and Sacrifice
by Stevensone
Summary: Growing up, Noah Corcoran's little sister was always his superhero. He should have known that it would only be a matter of time before it was his turn to return the favor. AU.
1. Prologue

**So this story is a bit alternative universe-y. It takes place roughly around the time of season one and is centered around the idea that Puck and Rachel are siblings (I plan on structuring it in a series of time lapses – flashbacks/present time things like that). **

**Other than that, generally everything else about the show will generally remain the same but I'll try to scatter the changes throughout the actual story/make notes about them. But if you get confused, or notice I'm missing something, feel free to point it out because I'm scatterbrained and more often than not have an idea that makes sense in my head even though it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever written down :)**

**One more quick note, for those of you interested in pairings, this won't really be a relationship-based story, but I'm shooting for a little bit of Finn/Rachel, mentions of Noah/Santana but leaning more towards Brittney/Santana and a tad bit of Quinn/Finn. So basically just like how it is in the show. **

**Thanks in advance for taking the time to read this. It's my first time ever really posting anything that I've written so it means the world. Feel free to tell me what you think!**

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><p><strong>Prologue – <strong>_December, 2000_

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><p>The bruise presents itself in the shape of a circle roughly the size of an adult fist so that where it sits, directly between Rachel's shoulder blades; miniscule for even a four year old, it looks enormous. Her dance teacher is the one to find it; early one Saturday rehearsal as she is being fitted for the dress that she's to wear during the following week's holiday recital.<p>

"Rachel sweetie, where did you get this?" She asks the child, swiveling her around so that she could identify the offending mark in the full length mirror before her for herself.

"I don't know," Rachel shrugs casually, uninterested as she reaches over her head, stretching her toothpick-thin arms to their absolute threshold in an effort to rub it off without success.

"Does it hurt?" Miss Kirstin leans at her hips, matching Rachel's tiny height as the young girl shakes her head fervently.

"Does it hurt now, freak?" From around the corner, a small Latina emblazoned by the mismatch of a short pink tutu and lime green tights scurries towards the smaller girl and presses her palm hard against the bruise prominently outlining her classmate's spine.

Rachel howls with pain instantaneously, her back curving instinctually away from the touch so that the straight-head sewing pins stuck precariously about the waist of her dress pinch at her skin, making an already unfortunate situation exponentially worse.

"Santana Lopez!" Miss Kirstin scolds the child quickly, but the feisty child has already disappeared down the length of the hallway –

Out of sight, out of mind, and just out of reach.


	2. Shelby Corcoran  December 2000 Part I

**Shelby Corcoran – **_December, 2000_

(Part I)

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><p>By the time Shelby Corcoran wakes up, she finds that her husband, Hiram has already left for work. An emergency room RN, he possesses a notoriously strict schedule; he is on for four days, and then three nights in tandem before he's granted a five day amnesty – then repeat.<p>

Today marks day one of a new cycle, meaning that it is already bound to be a long week and Shelby isn't even out of bed yet.

Glancing upwards towards the clock, Shelby realizes astonished that she's allowed herself to sleep past ten o'clock… What is even more astounding, she believes, is that her children have yet to bound into her bedroom to wake her up themselves.

You see Shelby Corcoran has been blessed with the gift of two personal alarm clocks – a six year old and a four year old. Their selling factor rests in the idea that these alarms can never fail; they're never late, they possess the ability to set themselves, and no matter how often, or how early they ever wake you up, you can never seem to stop loving them.

Motherhood and unconditional love, after all, was a direct synonym.

Shelby leaps out of her bed in a heartbeat, pausing only to slip her feet into their respectful slippers before she rushes downstairs, a worried chill travelling the length of her spine that she knows has absolutely nothing to do with the frigid December air.

The living room is spotless and looks just as she had left it the night before. Experience tells her that this is not the mark of two school-aged children; especially two school-aged children who – only mere days ago – happened to have been spoiled rotten for Hanukah.

She doesn't know whether she should be relieved or concerned.

"Rachel!" She calls for her youngest first, switching gears when she receives no response; the name of her oldest slipping from her lips with an air of worry. "Noah!"

"I'm in here, momma!" The familiar drawl of her eldest has her releasing a prominent sigh of relief; a breath of air that she hadn't even realized that she had been holding until she was struck with the liberating head rush of a sudden oxygen flow.

She follows her son's voice eagerly, sauntering into the kitchen with her shoulders poised with strategic confidence in an effort to prevent Noah from perceiving the warrantless fear that had been coursing through her veins mere seconds ago. After all, kids – she knew from experience – had the ability to sense emotion like a shark could sense blood in the water.

Upon turning the corner, the first thing she notices is that her six year old is standing atop a granite countertop that is taller than he is, his barely three foot frame stretching to its absolute threshold as he pauses midstride. She has come at just the right time, or so it seems, to prevent a dangerous ascent up the flimsy cabinet shelving units; the ones that have been in this house longer than they have – the goal; the box of cookies that Shelby strategically placed out of the arm's reach of her always-hungry son.

Or so she thought.

"Noah Eifah Corcoran, what have I told you about climbing on the counters!" She scolds the boy who immediately shrouds away from his mother's threatening tone, desperately trying to splay innocence across his face in an effort to make up for the fact that he had been cornered in the scene of the crime red handed.

"But daddy says to only do it when you're not looking!" He uses the charm that by the good graces of genetics, his father has passed along to him because he knows that it will work on his mother, just like it always does. Those Corcoran boys possessed biologically, an ability to always win over her heart. "And you were asleep so you weren't looking!"

He flashes her that million dollar smile that he is already famous for, the two teeth missing at either corner of his wide mouth melting any anger that Shelby had previously had inside of her clear out. One day, her son was going to be a heartbreaker… The idea alone worried her already.

"You've been listening to your father too much." She shakes her head slowly although her face is luminous as she grabs her son beneath either arm and hoists him into the safety provided naturally by her outstretched arms.

"Where's your sister, squirt?" She asks the boy, tucking him securely into her hip bone with one arm as she uses her free appendage to begin wiping down the mess that Noah has left behind in his wake, multi-tasking having become a particular skill that she had inherited alongside three rambunctious children.

"She didn't want to play." Noah sighs, looking genuinely downtrodden towards the idea that his favorite playmate had rejected him; a rare occurrence, Shelby thinks, giving the exponential amounts of energy possessed by her four year old.

"What do you mean?" Shelby asks, pausing in her ministrations in order to raise Noah up a little bit higher into her arms.

"She wouldn't wake up."

Shelby's face pales visibly beneath the mysterious nature of her young son's words as her heart begins to beat instinctively harder against her ribcage. She has Noah down and on the floor and is racing towards Rachel's bedroom before the boy so much as has the opportunity to perceive his mother's abrupt change in demeanor.

What had Noah meant when he'd told her that he couldn't wake up Rachel this morning?

"Rachel," She bursts into her daughter's room with a harsh, unexpected force that makes even her flinch; but standing amidst the pink surroundings of her stereotypical young diva's bedroom, she can't help but to feel as if she has never felt a sense of relief like that by which washes over her as she watches Rachel's tiny frame shifting slightly in her sleep in an effort to investigate the intrusive sound.

Her child's eyes squint upwards momentarily, adjusting slowly to the blinding natural sunlight seeping through her windows before they finally connect with those of her mother's; identical orbs greeting each other in a storm of concern and confusion.

"Good morning, sweetie." Shelby attempts to brush off her concern but still, she can't help but to wonder whether or not Rachel's sleeping so late has anything to do with the cold that she has been coming down with for the past several days, or more specifically, the indication that it was only getting worse.

Shelby opens the drapes gently, drowning Rachel in light as the young girl tucks the small stuffed rabbit that she is never seen without securely underneath her arm in an effort to leave her hands free to be placed instinctively across her eyes, trying desperately to block it.

"Why are you so sleepy this morning, Star?" Shelby questions her four year old, perching herself at the edge of her daughter's bed as the girl rolls sideways and away from her mother in her bid to fall straight back to sleep.

"Rachel, honey…" Shelby sighs with the frustrations stemming from her confusion towards her daughter's odd behavior. She is already leaving herself a mental note to call Rachel's pediatrician when she clutches gently at the child's shoulders, forcing Rachel to face her so that she can't help but pause alongside a distinct gasp.

Her hands slip subconsciously from Rachel's shoulders, leaving the girl slipping from her grasp and back down and onto the bed where she rolls away immediately from her mother's intrusive glare, blocking Shelby's vision once more of the gradient of purple and blue bruises that align the left side of her daughter's face.


	3. Shelby Corcoran December 2000 Part II

**Wow… well, first and foremost I wanted to give everybody a giant THANK YOU for the response I got to this story. I didn't really see that coming, but it's amazing and I am eternally grateful to everybody who reviewed, alerted, even just glanced at this story, you guys are absolutely incredible. **

**And before you read, this chapter is told in a series of flashbacks so all the italics are flashbacks. Also, I'm sorry if there's grammatical/spelling errors, I'm putting this up kind of quick without reviewing so I can head out for the night. **

**Also, I wanted to be sure to respond to everybody's reviews, it's the least I can do for you guys taking your time to do so, so: **

**Sillystarshine**** – First and foremost, thank you for your kind words! And yeah, I have a feeling you're gonna be needing those tissues; I'm barely getting by just writing it :)**

**Beaner008**** – You've got it. Rachel is sick, and this chapter is going to clarify things a bit. Thanks for the review, I promise I'll be continuing!**

**BigTimeGleekBTR ****– Thank you so much for the review! I'll be updating quick don't worry, I start school next week, which means I will be needing something to procrastinate with :)**

**Qwertyuiop1234 ****– Thank you so much! I promise, nobody is hurting Rachel (although Shelby is going to think that way for a little while) It's something a little bit deeper than that, this chapter clears it all up.**

**TheSecretToLifeIsMusic ****– Thanks so much! Glad you enjoyed.**

**Gleek30 ****– Awww, thanks! I know, I love reading things where Rachel and Puck are related, I figured I'd just throw one of my own into the mix.**

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><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran – <strong>_December, 2000_

(Part II)

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><p>Shelby enters her children's pediatrician office under the distinct stares of several parents who are immediately meddling into business that is of no concern to them.<p>

She passes by all of the stay-at-home mom's sneaking glances at her from across the tops of their _Good Housekeeping_ magazines while meanwhile, their own kids are rolling about on the carpet below unattended and picking up God only knows what kinds of germs and she utilizes all of her will power to resist the urge to glare at them right back.

She knows that with her impossibly bruised daughter shifting impatiently inside of her arms as she hurriedly hoards Noah towards the receptionist desk beside her, she must look like a hot damn mess right about now, but it's just easier to tell herself that she _hates_ these nosy strangers, that it's _their_ fault that she's in this position right now, than to rest the weight of all of the blame, all of the guilt solely on herself.

How else was she supposed to be thinking? She had woken up this morning only to find the child that she was supposed to protect, the child that she was supposed to be willing to give her own life for, doused from head to toe in bruises and completely unwilling to tell Shelby where any of them had come from…

And although Shelby Corcoran was a veteran of self-criticism, having been born and raised on the ruthless Broadway stage, never once in her entire life had she hated herself more than she did upon looking into Rachel's bruised eyes earlier that morning.

It was just when she had begun to believe that this expression of self loathing couldn't possibly feel any worse that it had struck again, this time, with a tenfold effect, because despite her insistencies towards the idea that no human being could ever, _would_ never do something like this to such a beautiful, innocent child, she couldn't help her wandering mind or its relentless claim towards the fact that there could be no other possible explanation…

So while Shelby's heart was screaming at her that her husband could never be capable of so much as conceiving such a horrible act, her brain was telling her differently so that she just had to find out the truth for herself… she had to –

Because Shelby Corcoran did not like to take chances, not ever, but when it came down to her children, she knew that she just _couldn't_ take them… she couldn't.

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><p>"<em>She has bruises all over her, Hiram!" She had paged him abruptly at work, declaring to the receptionist who had told her that he was unavailable that this was an emergency, because let's face it… it was, "Why does our daughter have bruises all over her!" <em>

_ She shouted into the telephone, her voice growing exponentially louder with each word that she spoke as subconsciously, she found herself clutching Rachel tighter and tighter into her chest in an effort to secure her against her frantic pacing about the room._

_ From her position in her mother's arms, Rachel whimpered slightly, reacting to Shelby's body tensing against her own as she wrapped her arm's tighter around the woman's neck and dug her face deeper into the indent already formed within the crook between Shelby's neck and her shoulder from the sheer amount of times that she'd had a child's head resting there._

_ "Shelby, calm down." Hiram instructed her, unable to understand the full extent of his wife's accusatory tone with her vengeful passion currently masking the actual words escaping her mouth. "Now talk slowly… what happened?"_

_ "It's Rachel," Shelby sighed, adhering to Hiram's instruction as she steadied her frantic footsteps beneath her and took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. "She was still asleep when I woke up a little less than an hour ago… She has a huge black eye, Hiram and there are bruises all up and down her back, so I…"_

_ "Wait…" Hiram's voice clicked with realization as he cut Shelby off mid-sentence before pausing in an effort to comprehend whether or not his wife was accusing him of what he thought she was accusing him of. "Do you… do you think that I had something to do with that, Shelby."_

_ "No," Shelby sighed abruptly, rubbing her free hand through her hair. Of course she hadn't wanted to believe herself when she had envisioned the outlandish possibility of Hiram ever striking either of their children, but she had to be certain – she had to get to the bottom of this, "No, of course I didn't."_

_ "She's a kid Shelby, and you know how Rachel is," Hiram sighed, trying desperately to sound offended by his wife's accusation, but Shelby couldn't help but hear the hint of sorrow seeping through his voice at the mere thought that she would ever find him capable of such an atrocious act. "She probably fell during dance, or recess or something."_

_ "Yeah," Shelby sighed, but she did not sound convinced – her maternal instinct was screaming at her that something was not right with her daughter, that it in fact was very, very wrong._

_ "Listen, I have to get back to work." Hiram rushed to the end of their conversation, probably eager to end it now, Shelby couldn't help but think. "If you're really that concerned about it, take Rachel to the pediatrician and have her checked out… Call me if you learn anything new, okay?"_

_ "Yeah," Shelby sighed, clearly defeated towards this phone call which seemed to have only made her worse off rather than better. "Yeah okay, I will."_

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><p>Anemia – the doctor's initial assessment of Rachel had told him that she was most likely suffering from a spontaneous case of anemia.<p>

Shelby can't help but to swell with relief upon hearing his words, although, at the same time, she also finds herself overwhelmed with a flash of guilt; here she was, standing before this doctor that had managed to come up with a completely rational diagnosis in under ten minutes while her thoughts had gone straight for abuse – and of all of the people in the world, she had blamed her husband.

"Anemia in children isn't all that uncommon," The doctor went on to continue his explanation, seemingly noticing the lack of conviction splayed upon Shelby's uneasy face. "Most often, it's caused by some sort of nutrient deficiency in the diet – iron deficiency, of course, is most common, but it could also be caused by her not receiving some of the essential amino acids. Oftentimes, it can be corrected simply by vitamin use."

"So that's all you think it is?" With all of the horror stories Shelby had found herself envisioning, she was almost glad that all that this had come down to, was the fact that Shelby simply hadn't been feeding Rachel her Wheaties, "Anemia?"

"Yes, that is what I believe this to be." The doctor confirmed with a short nod of his head. "Of course, I would like to run some blood work just to be certain."

"Blood work…" Shelby sighed, her eyes turning upon her daughter as she toyed obliviously with a children's book that she had found in the waiting room. "Are you sure that's necessary?"

"It's precautionary really," The doctor nodded, insisting that as painful as this was bound to be for all parties involved, it truly was a necessary procedure. "While I do believe anemia to be the main cause of Rachel's problems here, at the same time, there are a number of other possibilities that I would feel more comfortable with ruling out."

"Okay…" Shelby finally sighed after a moment's additional thought, subconsciously clutching at Rachel tighter around the young girl's shoulders. "Okay, let's do it."

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><p><em>From the very day that Rachel had been born, Shelby Corcoran knew that her daughter was born destined to be a fighter.<em>

_ She had gone into labor late on the afternoon of Tuesday, December 17, 1996 – exactly two months to the date before she was supposed to. _

_ Her husband Hiram was, at the time, just completing his second hour of a twelve hour shift at New York University Langone Medical Center, in Brooklyn, an eternity away, in terms of New York City distance, from their uptown apartment, and their oldest, Noah, had been on a play date with a friend…_

_ At the time of the arrangement, Shelby had thought nothing of it, after all, this wasn't supposed to happen; this was not the way that they had been told that this was supposed to be._

_ Shelby had called for a taxi cab; way too stubborn to ever dial 911 in city that had the most notorious reputation for charging more for ambulance rides than they did for the actual hospital visit… So clutching to the wall, Shelby had managed to travel outside from the comforts of her 24__th__ floor apartment complex, panting heavily and cringing with unspeakable pain as waves of heavy contractions struck her every couple of minutes, as she instructed her cabby to drive her to New York Presbyterian Hospital – _

_And to drive her there as fast as he possibly could._

_She'd spent the entirety of the drive concentrating solely on her breathing, her eyes blinking rapidly through the pain so that every once in a while, she managed to catch the quick glimpses that her foreign cab driver was directing towards her through his rearview mirror._

_ "Are you okay lady?" He'd asked, only after a particularly painful contraction left her doubled over in pain, a grunt of pure agony escaping from between her lips before she had so much as had the opportunity to control it._

_ "Do I look okay?" She'd asked him, not meaning to sound rude, but at the same time, not caring about anything other than this child, who didn't seem to want to wait for her designated time to bring herself out and into this world. "I'm having a fucking baby!"_

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><p>The needle hadn't even been in the nurse's hand yet before Rachel began to scream; a high-pitched wail that travelled straight through Shelby's head, journeying down the length of her spine where it landed dead center within her heart, effectively cracking the vital organ right into two distinct pieces.<p>

"It'll be okay, sweetie," The nurse tried, but Shelby knew even her best of efforts would be of no use; her daughter had taken after her in ever manner that she possibly could have, including in her distinct hatred of needles. "It's only a tiny prick."

Shelby sighed at the ineffectiveness of the nurse's soothing words, gripping onto Rachel's shoulders even tighter as the child squirmed, writhed and struggled even harder against the needle that had begun to descend slowly down upon her arm.

Shelby squeezed her eyes closed; unable to watch the point of the needle break through her daughter's skin, but the additional wail released painfully from beyond Rachel's mouth was indicative enough that the nurse had found her mark… She opened her eyes carefully, watching as the nurse capped the first vial filled three quarters of the way up with Rachel's blood before lunging for a second so that Rachel struggled more and more inside of her arms until Shelby just staring to worry that she would slide straight out of her grip when, with a sigh, Rachel fell completely limp in her arms, panting and out of breath with exhaustion, submitting to the nurse as she continued to drain Rachel of the precious liquid shacked up within her veins.

And for the life of her, Shelby couldn't decide, as her daughter relaxed heavily against her chest, which was worse – her daughter embarking upon that fight that she was already so famous for, or her simply choosing just to give up, no longer trying…

Defeated.

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><p>It was two hours before she had heard from a single soul; and Shelby wasn't quite sure how much experience that the staff here at Lima Pediatrics had with forcing two young children to wait for more than two minutes, let alone two hours, but she knew, if she didn't hear from her doctor soon, she was going to snap.<p>

Noah had began to get cranky almost immediately following their departure from the exam room, dubbed by Rachel as her own personal torture chamber as the nurse exited carting a tray full of six vials of her blood alongside her… The boy was exhausted, cranky in his bid for a nap, and he was hungry, desperate for some food beyond the handful of snacks that Shelby had packed simply as a means to get Noah to stop crying in her ear.

Rachel was fast asleep once more, the trauma of the blood draw effectively knocking her out cold so that she lay curled comfortably in her mother's arms, following a pattern of rhythmic breathing that Shelby could feel gently against her chest, matching to the exact, her own.

"Mrs. Corcoran," Her head darted upwards in response to the first noise that she had heard in hours; the exact man that she had been waiting for approaching her gently with a lowered tone as to not awake the sleeping girl resting within Shelby's arms.

He stood before her, bending slightly at the waist in an effort to match her eye level as his eyes turned down gently, formulating a quick, jerky motion towards the manila folder clutched between his fingers – the results of Rachel's lab work, Shelby was certain of it.

"I think we need to talk."

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><p><em>Rachel Barbra Berry had entered the world at 4:39 a.m. on the morning of Wednesday, December 18<em>_th__, 1996, weighing a mere four pounds, six ounces, and, more pronouncedly, in respiratory arrest._

_ It was the first time that Shelby and Hiram Corcoran had almost lost their little girl, but unfortunately, from the very beginning, they had known that it would not be the last…_

_ The NICU doctors had been forced to keep her in an incubator – on a ventilator and a feeding tube – for three weeks before she'd finally managed to take her first breath on her own. It was an entire other week before Shelby had finally been given the opportunity to hold her._

_ It was for this exact reason, Shelby knew, that her daughter would always be destined to be particularly small for her age… Disproportionally short and thin compared to all of her classmates, Shelby had learned early on, that Rachel would quickly become a natural target for bullies… After all, she was a sensitive girl, had been from the day that she was born, she was frequently emotional, and possessed a physical stature that just marked her as relatively weaker than her counterparts. _

_ Unlike her thick-skinned, naturally strong son, kids had a tendency to flock towards Rachel, and unfortunately, as Shelby knew all too well, they possessed the capacity of doing the cruelest of things to her._

_ "Rachel sweetheart, can you tell me where you got all of these bruises?" Shelby crouched before the small girl in her bed, watching carefully as her daughter shook her head profusely before tucking her body into a tight ball and turning away from her mother._

_ "Did you fall during one of your dance classes?" Another question, another shake of her head; Shelby couldn't help but sigh in her frustration… she was getting absolutely nowhere._

_ "Did it happen at school; where those kids in your class being mean to you again Rachel?" Her tone dropped as she reached a hand down in order to brush a couple of stray strands of hair away from Rachel's face, tucking them gently behind her ear in an effort to enact at least a sense of comfort towards the young girl in the midst of such a sensitive conversation; Shelby hated that at a mere four years of age, her child already had to have been exposed to the cruelties of bullying… she just hated it. "Did they do this to you honey?"_

_ "No momma," Rachel insisted softly, her voice raspy as she turned into her pillow and began to cough harshly, her tiny frame shuddering with every breath that she struggled to inhale into her ailing lungs._

_ "Hey, are you feeling okay kiddo?" Shelby switched gears, too many concerns flocking through her brain all at once flustering her immediately as she attempted to organize them into priority orders. _

_ But Rachel didn't answer, instead, she simply wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand before bringing her knees even higher into her chest – of course, it was all the answer that Shelby needed. She thrust her hand outwards, allowing it to linger momentarily against her daughter's forehead – the heat radiating off of the girl's body telling her everything that she needed to know; Rachel was burning up._

_ "Noah!" Shelby called out towards her son who had been playing in his bedroom directly adjacent, trying desperately to hide the slight wobble behind her voice as to keep either him or Rachel from picking up on it._

_ She heard the scrambling coming from Noah's bedroom immediately, his pattering footsteps darting in double time as he ran from his bedroom, to Rachel's._

_ "Yeah, momma?"_

_ "Get dressed sweetheart." Shelby instructed him carefully, "We have to take your sister to the doctor."_

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><p>Shelby isn't sure at what point they had gone from being inside of their pediatrician's office to being dumped inside of the OncologyHematology department of Lima Memorial Hospital but whenever it was, and however they had gotten there; they were here.

Noah was lying on his stomach on the tile floor, playing with a large set of Legos stamped with the words _Lima Memorial Hospital_ in blue ink all up and down every one… Needless to say, Noah wasn't particularly pleased with his mother right now, having blamed her for turning a quick doctor's visit into an hour-long ordeal that has since ended in the hospital.

Besides her, Rachel was sitting Indian style inside of the plastic chair two times too large for her body. Following yet another blood draw that turned into a destructive chest x-ray, Shelby deemed it safe to say that Rachel was even less pleased with Shelby than Noah was at the moment.

The small family had been silent for hours; Noah and Rachel too exhausted to say anything, and Shelby and Hiram simply too scared, too confused… Not a word had been discussed between the two parents since Hiram had come sprinting upwards from the ER to the sixth floor hematology unit upon responding to Shelby's emergency call…

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><p>"<em>Hiram…" She'd sobbed into the phone, her voice choking painfully so that in a heartbeat, her husband could tell that something had gone, very, very wrong… Shelby could practically feel his heart stop from through the phone. <em>

"_Shelby, what is it, what's wrong? Is it Rachel?" He spoke at a mile a minute, begging for Shelby to provide him with the vital details faster, but she couldn't move, she couldn't speak as her words got caught in the back of her throat, rendering her temporarily mute._

"_It's Rachel," She'd finally managed, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand as another unceremonious sob escaped from within the depths of her throat and echoed down the length of the abandoned hall. "We're on the sixth floor… you need to meet us here, Hiram; now."_

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><p>"Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran," The two parents' heads shoot up simultaneously upon being addressed, as an unfamiliar woman wearing an elaborate pantsuit disguised by a lab coat approaches them, her high heels clicking obnoxiously with ever step forwards that she takes. "My name is Dr. Nolan; I'm the phlebotomist that ran Rachel's blood work."<p>

She reaches out a hand, Hiram gripping it in a tight handshake as compared to Shelby's less than feeble one; her hands trembling too violently to reciprocate as she attempts to disguise the involuntary motions with a particularly vigorous shake of her own.

"Well, we've looked at both Rachel's first and second blood tests, and we compared them, and it seems that her pediatrician was correct… there were some consistent abnormalities in the results." She pulls a chair directly in front of Shelby and Hiram, sitting before them as Rachel's head darts up in response to hearing her name. The tiny girl shrinks back into her chair; even the four year old able to tell that something was very, very wrong. "The biggest concern that I have is her white blood cell count; it's staggeringly low – only 2.1 when on average a child her age should be at about 5 to 10."

"O-okay," Shelby stutters; she couldn't help but to suddenly be cursing herself for choosing the absolutely worthless occupation of performance arts when really, she should have been going to medical school. "What does that mean exactly?"

"Well, those results are often indicative of a suppressed immune system, however, the rest of her CBC – her red blood cell and platelet count – were also extremely low. Looking at her blood work a little bit closer underneath a microscope we noticed that several of the cells were… abnormal."

Shelby's eyebrows arch, not really understanding the information that this doctor was attempting to relay towards her…

"Wait…" She finally speaks, only to pause as her heart begins a rapid freefall within her chest cavity; she feels as if she could no longer breathe, as if her body is struggling to keep up with its energy requirements as the adrenaline begins to pool inside. "Abnormal cells… you're not talking about… about cancer? Are you?"

"I'm sorry," She sighs after a brief pause, and the words meant to be so natural, so sympathetic strike Shelby like an eighteen wheeler. "What it seems that we are looking at right now is indeed some sort of a leukemic syndrome."

"Leukemic…" Shelby tests the word gently against her tongue; it burns straight through like strong acid so that she immediately feels as if she will positively die if relief doesn't come soon.

"More specifically, it looks as if Rachel is suffering from a condition called acute lymphoblastic leukemia…" A sob originates at the base of Shelby's throat as subconsciously, she finds herself clutching towards her daughter, pulling her even closer towards her with the idea in mind that she never wants to release the child ever again. "It is a blood cancer, specifically originating from the lymphoblast subgroup of white blood cells… Her lymphocytes as well as her monocytes are not being fully produced by her body before they are released into her bloodstream, and therefore, as a result, she has millions, billions of immature, ineffective white blood cells in her system right now."

"Is she…" Shelby swallows; her throat suddenly impossibly dry as the first question that pops into her mind goes straight from her brain, down into her mouth without her even thinking about its implications. "Is she gonna die?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran, I know that this is a very serious, very heavy diagnosis." The doctor chooses her words carefully, but Shelby can't help but to think that it would have just been easier had she gave them a straight yes. "But research for ALL has come very far in the past several years. The survival percentage for this type of cancer in Rachel's age group has risen from virtually zero to almost 90% in the past decade alone."

Shelby can't breathe, she can't speak, and most importantly, she can't help but to push aside anything that the doctor has just told her other than those numbers… And despite the fact that she has given Rachel a 90% chance of survival, the only thing that Shelby can truly keep on her mind is the other 10%.

"There's a treatment?" The stutter behind his voice tells Shelby that Hiram is thinking roughly along the same lines as herself, but unlike her, he forces himself to put such trivialities to the side; they couldn't be focusing on Rachel's fate right now, not when so much now had to be put in to making her better. "What… will she be doing chemotherapy… radiation?"

A small sigh slips from Shelby's mouth before she has the opportunity to stop it… her daughter was so young… she was just so young.

"Chemotherapy is the more traditional route, yes. Depending on what happens from there, her oncologist may choose radiation, maybe a bone marrow transplant." The phlebotomist chooses not to use specifics, trying desperately not to get these poor parents too worked up… But it was too late for that, Shelby thinks; much too late. "But Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran, we're getting a little bit ahead of ourselves. First and foremost, I would like to schedule Rachel for a bone marrow aspiration to confirm the diagnosis. It is a surgical procedure, it will be done under a local anesthetic… We will be putting a needle into her hip bone to extract some of the marrow in order to get a closer look at what's going on inside of Rachel's body here.

Shelby's heart is pounding furiously against her ribcage; she let's Hiram answer for her, unable to do so herself as she turns in order to glance down at Rachel; once again, the child has fallen asleep in her chair. The girl slips, losing her balance so that she pitches sideways where her head lands protectively inside of Shelby's lap; she is lost inside of such a deep sleep however, that she doesn't even wake up. Instead, she simply tucks the thumb of her left hand more securely between her lips before drawing Barbra, the stuffed rabbit that she is never seen without, closer into her chest with her right.

"_You mark my words, Shelby."_ Shelby could practically hear Hiram's words whispering into her ear, no more than a week ago as he gently lowered a sleeping Rachel down into her bed. _"Rachel is going to have Barbra tucked behind her bouquet during her wedding."_

"We can do the aspiration tonight." Dr. Nolan continues, pulling Shelby out of her memories of a time much simpler than this one; one that she could have kept herself inside of forever, if only it was that easy.

The doctor leans forward, her head bent directly between Shelby and Hiram as her hands reach forward to gently graze the couple's knees. "Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran, you need to know, I have seen a lot of kids pass through here in my time; they are capable of miraculous things. Recoveries that even the most ingenious of adults can never seem to understand."

Below her, directly within Shelby's lap, currently doubling as a bed, she can feel her daughter shift in her sleep, restless eyes and reddened cheeks, silently begging Shelby to take her home; even in her sleep.

Shelby wishes that she can; after all, it is so easy for her to look at Rachel and convince herself that this has all been some sort of mistake; that her lively, talented, endlessly energetic daughter couldn't be dying.

But she was. And for the first time in the nearly six years since she had been granted the grace of motherhood, Shelby Corcoran finds herself regretting her decision to ever bring such an innocent child into a world that could turn so cruel.


	4. Shelby Corcoran December 2000 Part III

**So, this will be the last chapter told in Shelby's P.O.V. before it jumps to the future, and after that, it will be Noah's turn for a focus-chapter. This chapter is going to kind of start exploring the depths of Rachel and Noah's relationship, but I promise that it will get more deep with time, this whole beginning sequence is just for the sake of background information.**

**As always, thank you all for the kindness in regards to this story, you're all amazing. **

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><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran – <strong>_December, 2000_

(Part III)

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><p>She has never experienced a silence quite like that which dwells around her throughout the entirety of the car ride back home. It's thick, impossibly heavy, and it swelters all around her in a manner that makes it appear as if even the traffic that is currently flying past them at double the speed, is doing so in a complete, and absolute quiet.<p>

She is just starting to convince herself that all of the pressure that has been building up between her ears in these past couple of hours has finally expanded to the point that it has rendered her completely and utterly deaf when she hears Noah release a tiny groan of disappointment from within his booster seat behind her; the tiny army man that he has been playing with slipping through his fingers so that although he makes a quick swipe to grab at it before it succumbs to its final plunge just beyond his reach, he misses by mere hairs.

Immediately, Shelby thinks of Rachel, of how she, as Noah had done, allowed something to slip just past her own grasp – missing her daughter by mere hairs.

Shelby's eyes dance across the rearview mirror, lingering on her son as he reaches desperately for his figurine, but it's no use – he's not even close – it has landed much too far to his right, directly in front of Rachel's empty car seat where it serves Shelby as a rude reminder towards the idea that their small family would be returning from Lima Memorial Hospital tonight, one member short.

Her heart clenches involuntarily as she envisions her baby, currently lying in surgery; doctor's utilizing her sedation in order to suck the marrow straight from her hipbone with a needle that was roughly the size of Shelby's arm…

"Shelby…" She only vaguely registers Hiram's voice beside her, but her mind has already wandered much too far to render a response; her breath is hitched much too far upwards within her throat as she pictures her child inside of that operating theater alone and vulnerable to so much as consider speech.

"Shelby!" He calls for her once more, but this time, his voice is harsh, abrupt; it forces her eyes from the diluted image in her rearview mirror and back towards the windshield, more specifically, the image of her car skirting at sixty miles per hour, closer and closer towards the mini-van, halted at a red light directly in front of her.

Instinctively, she slams her foot down against the brake, so hard that the tires squeal dangerously along the slick pavement and the smell of burning rubber immediately infiltrates their senses with such an overwhelming force that Shelby's eyes begin to tear.

She squeezes her eyes firmly shut, bracing for impact by shooting her arm out behind her in an effort to grab onto Noah, preparing for the worst as from somewhere behind them, a car horn blares angrily towards their general direction… as if Shelby isn't already fully aware of just how badly she's messed up.

The car jerks to a halt mere inches from striking the van before them, jolting its passengers so that their seatbelts constrict painfully across their chests; Shelby can feel the air being knocked straight out of her fragile lungs, but she hardly even notices the change; she couldn't even remember what being able to breathe properly felt like anymore.

"Noah, are you okay?" Hiram turns towards their son first as Shelby can't seem to find her voice straight away, too busy clutching onto the steering wheel to the extent that her knuckles are beginning to turn white, eyes wide as she stares in shock, directly ahead of her…

The cars begin to move all around her, honking angrily as they throw obscene hand gestures towards her as they fly by; but she doesn't move the car… she _can't_ in fact, seem to bring herself to move the car.

"Yeah daddy," Noah answers feebly and the fist currently holding a vice grip against Shelby's heart eases up slightly. "Is mommy okay?"

He's worried about her… Noah is constantly worrying about his family; protectiveness being something that is simply in the boy's nature… In the back of Shelby's mind, a random memory enters in to her head; she remembers thinking one day, that once Rachel grew a little bit older, the poor girl would never be able to so much as look at a boy let alone talk to him before Noah pummeled him into submission…

The thought hadn't crossed her mind in years, yet for some reason, now that it's unclear whether or not her son would ever be given the opportunity to protect his little sister, she can't seem to get it out - the uncertainty towards whether her daughter would so much as make it to elementary school, let alone high school the seeming glue that Shelby needed in order to get the idea stuck permanently etched across her mind.

"Yeah buddy," Hiram answers, "She's okay."

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><p>Hiram takes Noah to bed the second that the car is parked safely away inside of the garage; the fifteen minute ride having taken almost an hour thanks to Shelby's impromptu breakdown smack dab in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Lima…<p>

It was still light outside, Noah had argued, and he made a valid point; the late winter air was barely just starting glisten in its brilliant shades of red and gold as the sun descended all around, but amidst the chaos, Shelby felt as if it might as well have been midnight… Noah hadn't been given an opportunity to nap today, and although his sleeping schedule was guaranteed to be skewed for days as a direct result of putting him to bed before six, Shelby couldn't help but feel as if he wouldn't be the only one -

In fact, the only thing that Shelby was certain of anymore was of the fact that it would be a long time coming until she could find herself sleeping easy once more.

By the time she'd finally entered her home, she'd found it to be eerily quiet… She climbed the stairs breathing heavily strictly for the sake of noise rounding the corner only to find that her bedroom door had been closed and locked…

She knew that Hiram must have choose to shell himself away inside of the room, and she decided in an instant, that she would offer him the space that she knew he needed for the time being, at least… They were all bound to breakdown sooner or later, Shelby could only assume.

She sauntered gently towards Noah's room to reciprocate, paying special attention to avoid having to first peer into Rachel's in her own effort to evade the reminder as to why it was currently empty…

"Hey momma…?" Noah addressed the familiar clicking of Shelby's heels down the wooden hall as she rounded into his room, pausing in the doorframe where she propped herself up against the wooden panel, her eyes lingering across her son as he scrambled to sit up in his bed; no longer willing to take advantage of any opportunity to simply look at either one of her children.

"What is it sweetheart?" She asks him.

"Is Rachel going to die?"

Shelby is under the distinct impression that had her son stood up and slapped her clear across the face as hard as he could, it would have hurt her less.

"Why would you ask that, Noah?" She watches the boy intently as he begins to fidget with his hands, his eyes averting downward in an effort to watch in seeming wonderment, as his fingers curved perfectly interwoven within one another and clenched; a tight fist representative of his current discomfort, of his sadness that Shelby knew, such a young boy shouldn't be capable of feeling.

"Do you remember the last time that we were at the hospital?" Noah drifts into the memory, and for a second or two, Shelby is unsure exactly where her six year old is going with this conversation before suddenly, a flash of realization dawns inside of her dreary eyes. "It was when daddy's daddy died, and when that happened, daddy was really sad. And then today, we were at the hospital with Rachel, and now both you _and_ daddy look really sad. So does that mean that Rachel is going to die?"

The abilities of her son's impressive memory shock her more than the depth of his reasoning does. He couldn't have been any older than three years old when Hiram's father had died, Rachel barely one… They had been living in New York City at the time, Shelby continuing an already impressive career on Broadway as Hiram celebrated a promotion to head RN of the emergency department at NYU Medical Center mere weeks before…

Considering what their lives had been then, to what they had become now… to Shelby, it seemed like a whole other life; it _was_ a whole other life. A little more than a year ago now, Shelby Corcoran had decided to pull a complete one eighty, strictly for the sake of her children. She had given up the Broadway stage, she had moved her husband and two children away from the only home they had ever known into the small suburb of Lima, and she had done it all, she'd told herself, in an effort to protect her kids; to better their education, to keep them away from the stresses and evils of a city lifestyle, to ensure that they stayed healthy…

Some good that did.

"Yeah honey, you're right… your grandpa did die at that hospital." She chose not to lie to her son; he wasn't a stupid kid, he understood that something was just not quite right with his family…

In an instant, Shelby couldn't help but wonder what her life would have been like had she done it all differently… more specifically, she wonders if any of this ever would have happened? Would Rachel still have gotten sick if they'd stayed in New York, would she have gotten sick if they'd allowed her to have the bedroom on the opposite side of the hall as she had wanted? Did this happen because by some ultimate act of strange misfortune, Shelby had passed along a hidden set of her own faulty genes directly into Rachel's fragile, unsuspecting body?

This idea alone makes Shelby feel more ill than she already does, and she finds that it sinks, like a burning pit, straight through into the center of her chest.

"But Noah, that doesn't mean that Rachel is going to die too." The boy tilts his head gently upwards, his eyes latching firmly onto her own… Shelby had passed her eyes to their exact onto both of her children. Every time she looked at either one of them, she couldn't help but feel as if she were looking at herself. And suddenly, with a pang that tugs on her already worn heartstrings, she can't help but wonder; if it's possible that Rachel fell ill because of her, than was it possible that he could get sick as well? "I'm going to make sure of that."

"Then why is she in the hospital?" The poor child was bursting at the seams with confusion… He was much too young to have to be forced to understand the mysteries of the things that life threw at you – they all were.

"Noah, honey…" Shelby swallowed heavily, her head spinning as she attempted to concoct the best means by which to approach this conversation with her young son… But the more she considered, the more she realized, there just wasn't going to be an easy way to go about doing this. She should have known that much. "Your sister… she is very, very sick Noah."

She studied the boy carefully, searching for that dawn of understand to spread through his features, even the simplest sense of realization… but it never did, so she was forced to continue.

"And me and your daddy and the doctors are going to do absolutely everything that we can to make sure that she gets better, but from now on, we're all gonna have to start being a little bit stronger and a little bit braver than what we're used to, okay?" She spoke slowly; articulating her every syllable as Noah gently bobbed his head to the rhythm of her speech. "We're all going to have to be strong for Rachel."

"I can be strong for Rachel, momma!" Noah professed animatedly, jumping to his feet and reaching himself to his full height in an effort to prove just how big and strong he truly was… With a teary smirk, Shelby's eyes travelled across her young son briefly… he just looked so much bigger, so much taller, so grown up all of a sudden.

The Superman pajamas that it seemed to Shelby she had just bought him yesterday were already a size to small; the elastic bands at the edges of the pant legs gripping tightly around his upper ankles, exposing his bony lower legs in their entirety… With a sudden burst of sadness, Shelby was reminded that when she'd awoke earlier that morning with a rush of blissful naivety, her intentions of the day had been to buy her children some new clothes… But now, that thought was left in a different time zone, a different era even…

_'B.C.,'_ Shelby thinks, _'Before cancer.'_

"I know that you can be, Noah." She nods her confidence in the boy, pulling him onto her lap where she immediately begins playing absentmindedly with his closely shaved hair. "But you have to know that it's okay if you're a little bit angry or sad or confused about what's happening with Rachel."

"Are you sad momma?" His neck swivels to its ultimate threshold in an effort to face her, inquiring eyes darting upwards towards his mother.

"Your daddy and I are especially sad, buddy." She nods her truth, "We're very, very worried about Rachel, but you know, we're also worried about you too."

"You don't have to worry about me." He shakes his head vigorously, as if the harder he shook, the more Shelby would have to believe him although his actions were unnecessary – she already did. "I'm going to be strong for you and for daddy and especially for Rachel."

His body sinks suddenly within Shelby's lap alongside the completion of his motivational speech, the entirety of his weight transferring onto her thighs as he looks down towards his hands and drops his voice so that Shelby can't be sure whether or not he'd intended for her to hear him as he whispers –

"I'm going to be Rachel's hero; you'll see."

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><p>She's in the car on her way back to the hospital when her cell phone begins to blare – the hospital, calling in order to confirm what deep down in Shelby's heart, she'd already known to be true; her daughter, her beautiful, restless, loving, ambitious four year old daughter was officially a leukemia patient.<p>

She wants to stop the car, she wants to slam on the brakes in the middle of this crowded street and simply sob all of her worries, all of her cares away, but she knows that this wouldn't do her, or Rachel any good, so instead, she forces herself to keep her foot flexed against the gas; the SUV picking up speed at a remarkable rate as it barrels onward toward the hospital.

When her phone rings again, she nearly throws it out the damn window, restraining herself just in time only by thoroughly convincing herself that this must be the hospital calling her back in order to tell her that they had made a terrible mistake, that they had read some other poor, unfortunate child's lab results, that Rachel didn't have cancer…

She's actually disappointed when she discovers that none of the elaborate scenario that she had just made up in her mind turned out to be true – the familiar phone number of her parents' house displaying itself proudly, almost arrogantly across her screen.

"Hello?" She answers the phone with a distinct sense of hesitancy, mentally smacking herself for the temporary lapse in judgment that chose not to send the call straight to voicemail… She couldn't tell her parents yet, not when she was already struggling bad enough as it was… No, she wasn't willing enough, she wasn't _cruel_ enough to lead another poor soul into this unfortunate lifestyle quite yet.

"Shelby, how are you?" Her mother sounds ecstatic on the other line, her enthusiasm merely cleaving Shelby's heart further into two… Her mom adores her children nearly as much as she does; she was bound to be heartbroken.

"I'm okay mom," She brings herself to tell this blatant lie, but what else was it that she was supposed to say? Was she supposed to say that she was doing absolutely terribly, that her life was currently falling apart at the seams, that her child had been diagnosed with cancer mere moments ago? How was one supposed to segue into this type of conversation?

"Guess what?" Her mother presses forward abruptly; unable to pick up on her daughter's obvious pain with the distractions of such external excitement. "Your sister-in-law had her baby today! It's a boy, his name is Andrew Jonathan Berry; ten fingers, ten toes; he's perfect… he's healthy… he's perfectly healthy." Inside of Shelby's chest, her heart constricts for what seems to be the millionth time today alone; subconsciously, she wonders just how much more strain the organ would be able to withstand before it simply bottomed out completely.

She can't help but wonder what her mother had told her own brother the day that she'd called him to tell him that Rachel had been born… Did she tell him that Rachel had been two months early? That her lungs had been so hopelessly underdeveloped that she'd spent the first three minutes of her life in respiratory arrest? Had she told him that Rachel had been born defective, imperfect, slated to die before she'd ever truly had the opportunity to even live?

"That's great, mom." She chokes, the thought of her entire family celebrating all around her while she found herself taking rapid summersaults straight down the ledge of a cliff emanating in a deep stinging that lingers deep inside of her very core.

"And Hiram and the kids; how are they?" Shelby pauses obviously, sucking in a sharp breath of air… Even she is waiting to see how she is going to respond to this one.

"They're… they're great mom," The lie slips easily off of her tongue, much easier, she knows, than the truth ever could. "They're just fine."

"Good, that's good," Crystal Berry responds absentmindedly, "Well, your father, sister and I are al headed up to Boston tomorrow morning to see the baby. I'm sure you'll make it up there in time."

"Yeah mom," Shelby's voice falls empty as she considers her brother, considers the idea that in fact, she will most likely not be making it anywhere other than Lima Memorial Hospital anytime soon…

Ephraim had been born a mere year before Shelby, but in terms of mindset and maturity, he might as well have been a decade older… They'd grown up together, alongside their younger sister Krista in the small suburb of Teaneck in New Jersey, a mere minutes-long drive to New York City – a convenience that had always played kindly to Shelby's dreams…

But of course, as per usual, Ephraim hadn't seen things on the same priority level as she had. The second that he had graduated high school, he'd packed his every belonging into a car and drove it up to Boston, where he attended MIT, received a Masters in architectural engineering with honors, and started a small business with his contractor wife that grew so rapidly, that Shelby had blinked and her brother was a millionaire.

Ephraim had given their parents their first grandchild. He had been the first to build their retirement investment, the one to close out their mortgage, the onto to buy them a freaking beach house in Miami for Christ's sake, although, for the life of her, Shelby still could not figure out what it was that her sixty-something year old parents were going to do with a beach house in Miami…

Yes, Ephraim Leroy Berry was the pride and joy of their parents' eyes, he always had been, and now, on the day that Shelby's daughter faced a leukemia diagnosis, he had to take it one step further and introduce a happy, healthy baby boy into the world – how typical.

"I'll be sure to visit."

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><p>The first time Shelby gets the opportunity to see her daughter following the girl's official diagnosis, she is struggling through the heavy fog of anesthesia; barely awake, yet still cringing with every motion that she commits to that doesn't compliment the enormous hole that the doctors had drilled into her pelvis earlier that afternoon.<p>

She can't help but feel as if Rachel looks smaller, more fragile, more sick than before and she wonders if this is all mental, or if the addition of a hospital bed combined with more tubes and wires than she can even keep track of is actually making a difference.

"Rachel, sweetheart," Shelby approaches the girl slowly, twining her fingers through Rachel's delicate brown locks so that she can't help but to wonder how much longer her child will actually have hair atop her head for her to play with. "I need you to wake up for mommy now… Come on, Rach."

Rachel swats momentarily at the intrusive appendage, taking gentle swipes in an effort to retain her peacefully sleep, but her eyes rebel to her desire, her body forcing itself awake where she looks on frustrated with the interruption for a brief moment, before the sense vanishes, replaced by relief as she is met with the comforting, gentle stare of her mother.

Instinctively, Rachel reaches upwards with her arms, indicated to Shelby that she wants nothing more than for her mother to pick her up, to hold her close and never let go, but the second that she actually moves, she retracts once more, whimpering in the pain that the sudden motion has caused her so that in an instant, she fears that she will have to settle for what she's got…

The child releases several sharp sniffles which quickly turn into wails that leaves Shelby scrambling to find a means by which to hold her daughter while causing her the most minimal amount of pain humanly possible so that, with carefully concocted motions that only a mother could manage, it's only a matter of time before she's holding the girl tightly to her chest.

"Shh sweetheart," Shelby rubs soothingly against Rachel's back, her warm palms traveling up and down the length of skin left exposed by her drafty hospital gown; a tacky tan cloth printed with a plethora of zoo animals. "It's okay, mommy is here now... it's all gonna be okay."

"I've got a boo-boo, momma." Rachel groans heavily into Shelby's shoulder, using the fabric of her mother's sweater to soak up all of the tears leaking from her eyes as she points downwards towards the spot on her hip covered in nothing more than a plain sheer bandage. "It hurts."

"I know it does baby," Shelby coos as she clutches the tiny girl a little bit closer into her chest; holding onto her daughter for dear life. "I'm sorry that it hurts, Rachel... I'm so sorry that I can't take this hurt away from you." She feels the tear drip softly down the side of her cheek before she has the opportunity to contain it, before she has the opportunity to remind herself that she cannot cry in front of Rachel... It makes the dangerous descent down the length of her cheek, plunging in its apparent suicide mission off of the cleft of her chin where it performs an impressive free-fall before landing directly into Rachel's hair below...

And her girl is sharp; she doesn't miss the motion for a beat.

"You're sad, momma?" She asks her mother, reaching upwards with a tiny finger in order to catch the additional tears as the continuously slip from Shelby's eyes; unstoppable, now that they have begun.

"I'm a little bit sad, Rachel, you're right." She nods to the young child. "It makes mommies very, very sad when they have to see their babies hurt... Mommy just wants to see you feel better again, that's all."

"I'm sorry," The girl sniffles, her eyes turning away from her mother as she ducks her head deeper into the woman's chest.

"Hey," Shelby speaks abruptly, her emphasis exemplified as she places a single finger beneath Rachel's chin and lifts the girl's head up until their eyes meet. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby girl do you hear me? Because even though I am very sad right now, I'm also so proud of you for being so strong and so brave... I know that it hurts sweetheart, and I know that mommies are supposed to be able to make everything feel better, but Rachel... this time, mommy is gonna need a little bit of help from the doctors."

"Did I do something bad, mommy?" She asks the woman.

"No, sweetie," Shelby answers abruptly, attempting to squash this rumor straight out of Rachel's head before she has the opportunity to expand it any further in her already overwhelmed and confused mind. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I got sick..." Rachel sniffled softly. "Because they keep hurting me..."

"Oh Rachel..." Shelby sighs, pulling the girl even closer into her chest than she already was. "Nothing that you did was bad or wrong, Rachel... The doctors don't know why it is that you got sick... not even mommy knows why. But whatever reason it is that this happened, I want you to remember that none of it is your fault. You did nothing wrong, okay?" She felt the child nod timidly against her body. "Honey, I know that some of the things that the doctors are going to have to do to you are going to hurt, and I know that they're gonna make you feel pretty yucky inside, but Rachel, remember that they're only doing that so that they can make you feel better again." Shelby freestyles her timid explanation towards her young daughter, left merely to hope and pray that her choice of wording was one by which Rachel could actually understand...

She doubts it though; hell, not even Shelby understands.

"So I have to get sick before I can get better again?" Rachel tilts her head upwards in her confusion, her eyes burning into Shelby's with the questions that Shelby isn't too certain that she actually has the answers too.

"Yeah," Shelby nods, impressed with the extent of how much it seemed, Rachel actually did get.

"It's gonna get rid of my cancer?" Somewhere in the center of Shelby's throat, she can feel her heart lurch and get caught up painfully between the restricting muscles... There was an overwhelmingly heart-breaking factor involved with hearing your four year old talk with such conviction of the disease that was currently trying to kill her; the disease that, mere hours ago now, she'd never even heard the name of.

"Yes Rachel," Shelby confirmed. "It's gonna get rid of your cancer."

"Okay," With a small nod, Rachel seems satisfied with her mother's explanation... The older woman could only wish that things were so easy... She watches the tiny child move within her arms, delivering a large yawn as she shifts to make herself more comfortable against Shelby's shoulder.

"Are you sleepy, honey?" She knows the answer before Rachel so much as has the opportunity to give it, but still, the young child nodding through a steep yawn as she clutches desperately around her mother's neck in search for a comfortable place to sleep confirms it.

"Come on then," She lifts the practically weightless child with ease, placing her back gently down against the bed before pulling the covers high up to her chin, tucking them securely beneath her body.

"Mommy?" From her position cocooned within a sheath of blankets, Rachel rolls over to the best of her ability, her eyes peaking open in the motion to ask but one more question before she decides to call it a night. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Yeah sweetie," Shelby responds absentmindedly.

"Can I still go to my dance recital tomorrow?" Shelby pauses abruptly in her motions... she had completely forgotten about Rachel's recital.

"I'm sorry baby," She whispers sympathetically after a long silence, rubbing her hand gently across the top of Rachel's head in an effort to comfort the girl as she adjusted to yet another means by which her life was about to change in a significantly negative direction

"B... but..." Her lower lip began to tremble as she stuttered her injustices outwards to her audience. "But I want to go."

"Shh," Shelby coos, trying desperately to calm the child, knowing that should she get herself worked up now, Shelby would never be able to get her to go back to sleep. "I know that you do honey, but remember what I told you? Both mommy and the doctors need you to be very, very brave and to stay in the hospital for a little while longer so that they can help you get better, okay?"

"Okay..." Rachel sniffles in a manner that tells Shelby, she is not convinced although the girl leans into her mother's touch despite herself.

"Now sleep sweetheart," Shelby persuades the girl gently before a sudden reminder pops abruptly into her head, sparked by the unnatural nakedness of the space currently lingering between Rachel's arms; instinctively curled for something to be placed inside of them... and Shelby knew exactly what that something was. "I even brought you a present."

"A present?" The girl inquires with a groggy alertness, the potential for gifts exciting her despite her alertness.

"Yup," Shelby nods, digging through her bag only momentarily before she pulls the old, worn stuffed bunny rabbit from it; Rachel's security blanket that Shelby had to take home with her after the doctors had refused to allow it to pass into the sterile operating room with her.

"Barbra..." Rachel sighs in relief, a tired smile splaying widely across her features as she allows her mother to tuck the rabbit safely in between her arms before she rolls immediately into its warmth, resting her face protectively against the cotton fur. "Thank you, mommy."

"You're welcome sweetheart," Shelby watches carefully as the girl's eyes close, brushing her fingers through the small wisps of hair bordering her forehead as she begins to hum subconsciously; an incomprehensible melody that she'd inadvertently turned into song so that she found herself singing quietly without even realizing it.

_"Golden slumbers fill your eyes,"_

The girl drifts into a deep sleep quickly, exhausted from the days events, leaving her chest gently rising and falling softly with the bated breaths of sleep; safe beneath the watchful stare of her mother.

_"Smiles awake you when you rise."_

A sign dangles at the head of Rachel's bed, flapping gently alongside the breeze created by the humidifier. It depicts a small smiley face, dressed and cartooned to resemble a young cancer patient; a smile in his yes although his mouth is obscured by the surgical masks Shelby always saw those foreigners wearing on the news during anthrax scares or SARS outbreaks - _Stop! _It read,_ I'm on__ infection precaution. Have you washed your hands recently?_

_"Sleep pretty darling, do not cry."_

Trapped inside of the silence, Shelby can't help but to allow her mind to wander as she begins to wonder, if Rachel is to go, would she be in any pain when it happened, or would she succumb to such a drugged stupor that the transition between sleep and death wouldn't even be noticed? She wonders whether or not her daughter will make it to see her wedding day, her college graduation, her senior prom, her first day of kindergarten...

These questions ring relentlessly in the back of her head, forcing her to believe that somebody must have all of these answers, but at the same time realizing that sometimes, it's just easier to believe that there are no answers out there to actually be found.

_"And I will sing a lullaby."_


	5. Shelby Corcoran September 2011

**So this chapter is a bit of a filler, and in fact, just makes you ask more questions than gives you answers for them, but there's background information and a bit of foreshadowing, and I promise we'll learn a little bit more about what happened between the time of the flashbacks and the present as things progress.**

**Also, thanks for being patient with me, I know it took a little longer to get this chapter up but I have literally been running across the entire country this week; I went to Boston for a job interview, Vegas to visit an old friend and now I'm getting ready to drive from New York to Green Bay so that I can go to the Giants game (I'm that kind of obsessive football fan, it's my guilty pleasure (: ) so I'm hoping to have the next one up by mid next week or so, usually I can write a chapter pretty quickly, once I start I can't stop, but I'm a little OCD about editing and that tends to take a while. **

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><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran – <strong>_September, 2011_

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><p>"Noah!"<p>

With an abrupt inhale that literally chokes her out of sleep, Shelby's eyes fly open in response to the ringing wail of her youngest travelling across her thin bedroom walls and straight into her skull.

"Noah, stop hogging the bathroom you've been in there for an hour already!"

Shelby sighs heavily; a deep, lengthy inhale that originates from the very pit of her lungs and assists her in her motions as her muscles begin to roll her traitorously over and onto her back, out from beneath the natural warmth and comfort of her Egyptian cotton sheets.

"Noah, come on!" That was her cue; with a grunt of disapproval, Shelby slowly pushes herself upward and into a seated position, all the while marveling towards the notion that even now – fifteen and seventeen years later – her children still possessed the capacity to wake her up from her most comfortable of sleeps at the earliest hour possible.

She had absolutely no idea as to where it was that the two had received their morning-person personality traits from, but it sure as hell hadn't come from her, that was for damn certain.

She glances quickly towards the clock nestled strategically on the bedside table to her right; the relentless red neon glow telling her that it was already well past 6:30… she should have been out of bed an hour ago in an effort to begin her preparations for her first day at her new job – teaching English and coaching the glee club at Carmel High School in the adjacent town of Fort Shawnee…

But first things first, Shelby thought as she pulled herself up and out of her bed; it was time to break up the apparently savage fight currently brewing between her two children.

Throwing her bathrobe snugly across her shoulders, Shelby rips her bedroom door open in her attempts to appear as dominant and intimidating to her bickering children as she possibly could having been about ten seconds out of bed… but, as per usual, the kids hadn't even noticed her.

Her youngest was standing outside within the carpeted hallway; barefoot and still draped in the sweatpants and ratty old t-shirt that she wore as pajamas, hanging off of her thin frame like a tapestry… Rachel, it seemed, had been spending the past several minutes banging her fists relentlessly against the locked bathroom door before her, screaming to her brother on the other side who, it seemed, had fallen selectively deaf towards his sister's less-than-orthodox methods of requesting bathroom time. ..

"What the hell is going on out here?" Rachel pauses in her ministrations in response to the sudden presence of a third, sighing with a dramatic relief towards the identification of her mother; the motion accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll directed towards the closed door behind her…

Shelby can't help but to smirk before the girl so much as has the opportunity to open her mouth and offer an explanation; her daughter was going to win an Oscar one day; that was something that Shelby was more than sure of…

"Mom, Noah has been in the bathroom for the past hour!" Rachel delivered her own version of the truth, her voice elevating to ensure that her son would be able to hear that his mother had officially entered into the picture. "He's taking forever and I have to take a shower."

"Alright," Shelby sighs, shifting herself past Rachel before squaring up against the locked door before her. "Noah…" She addresses her son with a much gentler tone than that by which Rachel had previously used, rapping her knuckles softly against the wooden door. "Can you give your sister a chance to use the bathroom please?"

"I'm doing my hair, ma." She heard his muffled, exasperated reply through the thick wooden doorframe.

"Noah-" Shelby begins her attempts toward bargaining with her unreasonable children before she is interrupted by her feisty, heated up daughter beside her.

"You don't even have any hair!" She lunges forward towards the door once more, clutching at the doorknob with both hands before shaking it with the rough vigor of a rabid raccoon.

Shelby sighs… she hates mornings.

"Mom, will you tell the midget to wait, please!" Noah calls through the wall, knowing fully that from the safety of his locked sanctuary, it would be Shelby, not him that would have to deal with the dramatic repercussions of Noah poking a comment on Rachel's size.

As expected, Rachel releases an exaggerated scoff before banging even more aggressively against the door; like Shelby always said – Oscar.

"Okay, first of all Noah, please don't call your sister names." She hasn't remembered having to use that one since the kids were young and Noah had begun to learn a series of less-than-appropriate new vocabulary words that he chose to test on his little sister. "And second of all, Rachel…" She grasped the girl gently by her thin shoulders, pulling her from the door before she knocked it over. "The last thing that we need right now is another hole in the wall, okay?"

Shelby can't help but to remember a particularly loud and verbal argument that had erupted between Noah and Rachel last year that resulted in Noah slamming his bedroom door so hard that the thing fell right off of the hinges… A couple hundred dollars and one new door later, Noah still could never quite lock himself inside of his bedroom the same way.

She felt Rachel settle gently beneath her arms, her muscles relaxing as Noah fell silent from behind the doors so that Shelby couldn't help but to pause, relishing in the brief quiet as she delivered a silent prayer to God above for helping to guide her through yet another chaotic morning.

"Noah," She sighs once more, her fraction of a second of silence nowhere near enough. "Please stop putting your makeup on in there and come out here please."

"I don't get why everybody's rushing me!" Noah sighed in an elaborate manner that greatly mimicked his sister as he ripped open the bathroom door and stepped out and into the hallway; his mohawk glistening with the sheer amount of hair gel that he had placed inside of it. "It takes time to look this good, besides, Rachel doesn't have to worry about that, she's too young to worry about impressing anyone."

"Not like it's any of your business Noah, but I will look good for anybody that I want to look good for." Rachel informs her brother in her typical matter-of-fact tone as she makes the motion to push past him in an effort to enter the bathroom before Shelby stops her, grabbing her arm and flipping her around so that both of her children were now facing her.

They stood beside her shoulder-to-shoulder… well, head-to-shoulder anyway considering that was the highest that Rachel's short frame reached on her lumbering brother… Rachel had been destined for shortness from the very beginning; a fate sealed to her upon being born two months premature although with her parents' traditionally small frames, she hadn't had much of a chance anyway… But still, every time Rachel would complain to her about her height, Shelby would always joke with her, the reminder that it was her own fault for choosing not to wait her time to enter into the world.

"We're not doing this every morning, do you hear me?" She makes herself clear, pointing a stern index finger into either of her children's faces, ensuring that they understood the point that she was trying to get across to them.

"Yes m'ame," They respond with a simultaneous chorus; a monotone agreement that told Shelby that actually, there was a very strong chance that they would indeed be doing just this every single morning.

"Good," Shelby expertly presents her voice in a strong, firm manner; however, she is more relieved than anything to have finally avoided this latest cause for a headache. "Now Rachel, please go take a shower, and Noah, you can finish getting ready in my bathroom if you want to."

_'So much for that shower…'_ Shelby can't help but think; oh the things that she was willing to do for motherhood.

"She's lucky she's my sister…" Noah turns towards his mother with a small smirk as the bathroom door closes behind them, the clicking of the lock emphasized beneath Rachel's thumb, reverberating in a manner that Shelby couldn't help but to laugh at… Her daughter had grown to become exactly like her – God help the girl.

"No," Shelby corrects him, "_You're_ lucky that she's your sister, and she's lucky that you're her brother… Now go," She swatted at her son across his broad shoulders, pushing him easily towards his bedroom despite the fact that he hovered easily a foot taller than her these days. "Get ready for school before you guys are even more late than what you already are."

Shelby watches as her son turns into his bedroom and closes the door behind him… She can't help but to smirk and to shake her head slightly through a deep, audible breath –

_Mornings._

Her children were growing up on her fast – too fast – Shelby often thought, for any of their own good. Of course, they both had been forced to grow long before they should have, but now that their bodies were actually starting to catch up with the rest of them, the repercussions were obvious…

Noah, who Shelby had always said resembled her to the exact after he was born, had rapidly become the spitting image of his father… Of course, it would have been much easier for all of them had Noah just continued to take after his mother the entire time, but genetics apparently, had not been generous to them – nobody knew that more than the Corcoran's had…

Noah resented his father, downright hated him; ever since the man had died, ever since he had left them more than eleven years ago now, Noah had barely so much as uttered his name…

Her son had done absolutely everything that he could possibly think of in order to alter his appearance, to avoid having to see his father every time he looked inside of the mirror. A football player, Noah spent more time working out in the gym than any other person on his team, any other person in the entire county, Shelby was certain… He had grown large, bulky, muscular… much unlike his notoriously scrawny father.

His hair had been shaven into a mohawk since middle school, he had even come home with an eyebrow piercing once before, although Shelby had put an end to that phase almost immediately… but she had known the truth, she knew what this was all about; Hiram, who had once been an incredibly traditional man, would have absolutely hated it.

Noah hasn't forgiven his father for his death, even years later… The boy had been so young at the time, barely seven years old, and still, he had so much pain left inside of him from what had been easily the toughest year of any of their lives – them all still adjusting to their new lives with Rachel still lingering in desperate illness before simply having to start all over again.

Life as a whole had made her son hard, tough… in his short lifetime thus far, he had gotten himself into more trouble than what Shelby had ever thought possible on the day that he had been born, the days that he awoke from a nightmare, begging for his mother, the days he sat by Rachel's side, supporting her, as well as the rest of them through the years that cancer had taken away from them.

Shelby worried about her son, of course she did, it was her job to be constantly scrutinizing over the both of her children, but at the same time, she saw so much intelligence inside of him, so much talent, so much ahead of him… There was nobody in the entirety of this town who saw her son as anything more than a rebellious jock going nowhere in life, but Shelby knew that her son was going to be great one day, was going to do something absolutely amazing – she just wished that he could see the same thing that she did when she looked inside of his eyes.

Rachel on the other hand, was the polar opposite of her brother; in fact, never once had Shelby met two people more different than her son and her daughter was; it was what – Shelby believes – has always kept her children so close to one another; that combined with more experience than what most people face in a lifetime.

But unlike her brother, Rachel was gentle, she was sensitive and ambitious; the girl had known her dreams since the day that she had been born, and she was willing to do anything in her power in order to achieve them…

But at the same time, Rachel's goals had a tendency to cloud her vision, made it difficult for her to push through this particular phase in her life when the only thing that she wanted to look at was the next one… she struggled in her efforts to make friends, Shelby knew that, and considering her son had become this extraordinarily popular, co-captain of the football team with more friends than what he could even keep track of, she knew that it was tough on her daughter.

Shelby could only guess that Rachel's experiences as a child had kept her relatively introverted well into her teenage years… But Shelby couldn't blame her daughter too much, after all, by the time she had been able to do much of anything, the children in her grade had already established their solid cliques of friends, and Rachel had learned very quickly that kids weren't very willing to warm up very quickly to the new girl…

Shelby had grown incredibly proud of both of her children – how could she not be, after all? But still, sometimes she couldn't help but to wonder what her life would have been like had Rachel been healthy…

A lot different, that was for damn certain.

"Mom?" She is pulled from her thoughts by the deep, lingering voice of her son calling out to her from down the hall, where he stands in his doorframe with a pair of jeans and no shirt on… "Are you okay?"

He must have noticed the look of glassy thought shading across her eyes, or her inability to respond promptly to his beckoning as he took a couple of steps closer to her and scanned his eyes across her in an attempt to read her thoughts…

"Yeah honey," Shelby forces on a brave face as she flashes him a soft smile. "I was just thinking… What's up?"

"Have you seen my football jersey?" He looks unconvinced by her excuse, but their pressed for time; he forces himself to overlook the troubled look that has fallen across his mother's face.

"I folded it and put it in your drawer yesterday," Shelby informs him with a small smirk; it was typical of her son to look last, in the place that he should have looked first. "You know… where it belongs."

"Right…" Noah nods, "I guess that makes sense…" He smirks softly up towards Shelby before pausing, the soft smile written across his features fading slightly as he continues to look at the hidden worry behind his mother's expression. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

"Yeah Noah," Shelby assures him. "I'm fine."

With a short nod, Noah allows his eyes to linger only briefly before he turns back inside of his bedroom; the distinct rummaging telling Shelby that he has turned towards the alluded-to dresser in order to locate his missing football jersey.

She continues to linger; a deep breath that carries across the length of the hallway, infiltrating through the blessed silence, broken only by the muffled sound of the shower through the bathroom door, as well as Noah's continuous shifting towards the hazardous wasteland that was his bedroom…

"I'm just fine."

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><p>Shelby was more than certain that the chaos of the morning rush was something that she would never be able to get used to… She was, on her own accord, attempting to shuffle two teenagers, never mind herself who at times, could be even worse than the children out of the house all before eight a.m.<p>

But if anything could be said about the Corcoran morning ritual, it was that at least she was getting used to it…

"Thanks mom," Noah races into the kitchen unannounced, her bottomless pit of a sun grabbing with an experienced grace at the massive plate of eggs that Shelby had prepared for him before throwing himself against the table, shoveling the food down his throat until he was red in the face.

"That's disgusting…" Rachel points out the obvious, turning to merely pick at the remainder of the food on her plate, her brother's carnivorous attitude leaving her suddenly, without much of an appetite.

"You wouldn't understand." Noah pauses only to turn towards his sister. "But it's okay, I wouldn't wanna eat any of that vegan crap anyway."

"Noah, language," Shelby scolds him sharply, but he doubted that the boy even heard her over the sounds of him scarfing down his breakfast.

"Whatever," Rachel rolls her eyes towards Noah's direction; flipping her hair dramatically from her face, ensuring that her brother would catch her emphasized eye roll, although Shelby couldn't help but think that the absence of the barricade hardly mattered… she had caught the motion from across the kitchen.

"That shirts a little bit low, isn't it?" Noah changes the subject abruptly as Rachel's motions inadvertently expose the lining of the halter that Rachel had been wearing – Noah had always been extraordinarily protective of Rachel, ever since she was a little kid he had deemed it his personal responsibility to take care of her, and no matter how many times Shelby reminded him that it was in fact _her _job to take care of the _both_ of them, he didn't listen – he never had.

Of course, as per usual, his concern posed no warrant; Rachel had always been a modest girl, and compared to some of the stuff that Shelby had seen some of the bimbos of William McKinley High School toting around, Rachel might as well have been wearing an outfit designed by the Amish…

But Shelby's eyes linger despite herself, much as they always did when she'd had an opportunity to catch the bare skin stretched taut against Rachel's fair chest, exposing the small, white scar; the faint line against its immediate center from where doctor's had inserted the central line by which to administer all of her chemotherapy treatments through almost eleven years ago now…

It was barely visible to the naked eye; small to the point that unless you truly knew that it was even there, you couldn't even really notice it… But Shelby did, she always did; and she always would.

"And this is coming from the guy who is wearing a cut-off football pinny to school every day?" Rachel's retort snaps Shelby back into reality, the bickering of her children bringing her quickly from her thoughts and back into her kitchen.

"Hey, what did I tell you guys this morning?" Her voice carries over both of their heads, loud and enforcing although had they actually heard her, they made no indication towards it.

"This is a uniform." Noah argues quickly, "I have to wear it, what's your excuse?"

"Well-"

"Hey!" Shelby snaps, her voice losing its sense of calm and poise in a manner that practically turns her children's heads towards her for them. "Cool it already… Now hurry up, please, you guys are gonna be late."

"Okay," Noah shrugs, clearly over the argument before it had even truly began as he shovels the last of his breakfast into his mouth before leaping up and away from the dining room table. "Let me just grab my car keys."

Noah tears abruptly from the room, leaving a path of destruction in his wake as, in a much opposite fashion, Rachel removes herself daintily from her chair, discarding of her uneaten food.

"Not hungry?" Shelby asks absentmindedly from the corner of the room, her eyes following Rachel's motions as the girl slowly rinses off her plate, although it is barely dirty to begin with…

"Not really," Rachel shrugs, leaving Shelby unable to do much of anything other than avert her eyes and nod her head…

"Don't forget that you have an appointment with that nephrologist today, okay?" Rachel pauses her motions in response to her mother's words; understandably, she doesn't particularly enjoy partaking in trips to the doctor, particularly when they poise the possibility of bearing bad news…

The girl had been lucky so far; ever since Rachel had been sick, they hadn't had very many problems; hell, the girl barely so much as came down with a cold since, but on the rare occasion that it did happen, Shelby couldn't help but to find herself in a panic… And lately, the issues have broadened to become a little bit more serious than a cold once or twice a year; lately, the issues have advanced to include her kidneys…

It had been just last week that Shelby had taken Rachel to her annual physical; her routine blood work showing a slightly elevated level of creatinine; and experience told Shelby exactly what that was indicative of – kidney failure.

Dr. McCarthy, who had been Rachel's primary oncologist since she was four years old, told her not to worry herself too bad, that the elevation wasn't something too serious, but at the same time, also something worth looking into; after all, the main concern of childhood cancer survivors as they advanced into adulthood was the effects that the treatments that they had received as children could have on their still-developing bodies.

This was how things like this usually worked, or so Shelby understood; when a kid spends the entirety of her childhood getting pumped full of cytotoxic chemicals, her body just tends to get worn down; and although Shelby knew that they haven't seen a problem in years, at the same time, she also knew more than anybody else how quickly things could change; how a seemingly normal, perfectly established lifestyle could shatter in the blink of an eye…

"Yeah mom," She nods, choosing not to elaborate although the look in her eyes is enough to tell Shelby of her displeasure towards the idea.

"I'll pick you up from school after lunch." Shelby lays down the game plan, just as the booming sound of her son's footsteps trampling down the staircase filters across their ears once more.

"Okay," Rachel nods once more, swinging her bag around her shoulders just as Noah rushes past them, keys dangling between his fingers, and towards the front door.

"Come on midget, let's go," He shouts towards Rachel. "Bye mom!"

"I'm coming, Thor!" Rachel rolls her eyes, reciprocating Noah's crude sense of humor. "Bye mom…"

"Bye sweetie," Shelby reciprocates the departure, pulling her daughter into a quick hug that Shelby forces to allow to linger just a little bit longer than usual. "Have a good first day, I'll see you later. Keep an eye on your brother for me, okay?"

"I always do." Rachel smirked in her assurance, pulling herself out of her mother's arms before turning away from the woman so that with one, final wave, she disappeared around the corner and out of the front door – just out of Shelby's sight.

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><p><strong>And of course, as always, I just wanted to thank everybody for the absolutely incredible response I have gotten to this story thus far. It's crazy, I definitely didn't see that coming, and it completely escaped me to respond to all of the reviews last chapter and I really like to do that, so:<strong>

**CloudGazer15**** – Thank you so much for the review! I'm trying to make a little bit of balance between being constantly sad and having at least a few happy moments thrown in there but I guess I just have an angsty mind haha.**

**Sillystarshine**** – I owe you a double thank you for the last two reviews haha. They literally just made me "aww" out loud. I love the little Noah Rachel moments so trust me, there are gonna be a lot of them thrown in here. Next couple of chapters will be from Noah's point of view, then it's Rachel's turn.**

**Beaner008**** – No need to be thanking me, I should be thanking you for all the kindness! I'm trying to add in a bit more happiness but it's just so much easier to write an upset and angsty Corcoran family so brace yourself haha.**

**TheSecretToLifeIsMusic**** – Eeek, thank you! I know, I just recently got into AU stories and now I'm completely addicted to them so I feel you, trust me!**


	6. Noah Corcoran January 2001 Part I

**Hello everybody! First and foremost, thank you for your patience, I had a very long yet amazing weekend driving from New York to Wisconsin and back so that is my absence excuse. But this week I'll be spending funds I don't have heading over to San Francisco for the Giants game so I apologize if I have you all praying for football season to be over so this obsessive fan can stop running across the country haha.**

**Anyways, I'll try my hardest to get as much as the next chapter done before I leave tomorrow so that fingers crossed, I'll have the next one up by Monday but I can't make any promises considering I'll be spending next week either celebrating or crying. **

**As always, thank you guys infinitely for all of the kindness towards this story, you guys are amazing and keeps me wanting to do nothing but write more!**

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran – <strong>_January 2001_

_Part I_

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><p>When he had been younger, the last thing that Noah Corcoran had wanted was a sibling.<p>

Nobody in the entirety of his day care center had had a sibling, and he had presented this argument to his mother consistently in the weeks leading up to Rachel's birth, insisting that she should simply _stop_ being pregnant at her own free will…

Needless to say, Shelby hadn't listened.

In his first memory, Noah is two years old.

He has an undyingly vivid image, impressive for having been a mere toddler at the time, of his little sister's birth… He had been inside of the hallway in the maternity ward at New York Presbyterian Hospital, standing atop a teetering old chair with his tiny face pressed up against the large window displaying to him row after row of newborns, searching tirelessly for his new little sister until finally, his father had come into the hall looking somber, worried even as he pulled Noah to the side…

_"Noah, your sister was born very sick."_ He had explained to the small boy. _"I know that it's scary, buddy, but me and your mommy need you to be brave for Rachel… That's what being a big brother is all about; being brave."_

He hadn't remembered particularly enjoying being a big brother in those first couple of months following Rachel's birth; it had proven early to be a very high maintenance job, especially when Rachel was involved, because apart from the fact that she had needed so much special attention, she had been born so sick, it had also become quickly obvious that Rachel was a naturally born diva – at least, that was what his mother always said, anyway.

Noah is just wondering whether all of the memories that he will have of his little sister growing up will be of her in the hospital when he is jerked suddenly from his thoughts; they can hear Rachel crying the second that they step out of the elevator.

Noah's head hangs immediately, his eyes dancing firmly across his slowly shuffling feet as his father's hand, previously resting gently across his shoulder stiffening almost painfully against the boy's tiny joint... His mom and dad have already told him that sometimes, the doctor's were going to need to give Rachel shots in order to make her feel better again, but needles never made Rachel cry anymore, she hadn't been afraid of them for weeks… it couldn't have been that.

"Mommy!" Rachel's voice is shrill and poignant, it lingers heavily and travels down the entire length of the hallway in a manner that makes Noah cringe… The last time that he had heard Rachel cry like that, it was because she had dropped Barbra out of the car window on the highway while they were on their way home from the beach last summer… He remembers this, because Hiram had been forced to pull onto the shoulder, walking up and down the highway with nothing more than a tiny flashlight for an hour until he had found it.

An inaudible wail ricochets against the walls once more, and Hiram jolts, grasping his son firmly around his wrist as he runs the last couple of paces towards Rachel's room, leaving Noah forced to move at double time, simply so that his tiny legs can keep up with his father's exponentially longer ones.

He doesn't let go until they are in the doorway of Rachel's room; but once he does, he simply releases Noah's hand and pushes forward, stepping away from the boy without so much as a second glance, barely noticing as his son retreats from the doorway and curls himself against the wooden framework until he is practically invisible…

He peeks gently into the room evaluating the destruction through the mere corner of his eye so that he can immediately make out the three familiar nurses surrounding Rachel's wailing form. From what he can understand, today, Rachel doesn't seem to want to comply with her daily chemotherapy treatments…

Her thin limbs are flailing in every which direction so that every time somebody so much as gets close to her, they receive an involuntary smack across the face… Not even Shelby is immune to the wrath of an apparently vengeful Rachel so that despite the mother's best efforts to comfort the girl, she can't seem to come so much as close to holding her down before she wriggles free once more.

Noah presses himself deeper into the drywall decorating the hallway, his body sneaking further and further from view with each passing second as he holds his hands firmly against his ears in an effort to block out Rachel's wails, although they seem to want to penetrate deep down into the very depths of Noah's brain no matter what it was that he tried to do.

All he wants to do his cry, to run away, and although he's not certain where it would be that he would go should he have done so, he didn't care… He just doesn't want to be _here_ anymore, he doesn't want to be stuck inside of this hospital, he doesn't want Rachel to be sick… In fact, the only thing that he did know for certain that he does want, is for everything to go back to normal, to go back to the way that it had been before.

Through a sniffle, he could feel the tears welling up inside of his eyes. Closing them gently, he lifts his two small fists upwards and begins to rub at them furiously in his efforts to simply push the liquid straight back to where they came from if that was what he had to do, although none of it seemed to be working…

"Are you okay buddy?" He opens his eyes, his neck snapping upwards so that his vision swarms in front of him briefly; the image of his father hovering over him, bending at the knees so that they were nearly the same height.

"Is Rachel okay, daddy?" Noah asks, throwing himself into his father, wrapping his small arms around the older man's waist where they just barely made their way around.

"She's okay buddy," Hiram assures the boy, although he doesn't sound very convincing. "She just doesn't want to take her medicine today… it doesn't make her feel very well, Noah."

"But she has to so that she can feel better… right daddy?" Noah inquires softly, looking upwards towards his dad… The man looked concerned, nervous; Noah knew that his dad was worried about Rachel, they were all worried about Rachel, but at the same time, he was trying to be brave… Noah and his father had had this conversation once already, but at the time, he had thought it impossible to understand what it could ever mean to truly be a man.

But finally, he thinks that he is starting to get it.

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><p>"<em>Rachel come on, let's go to the playroom!" Hiram had brought Noah straight from school to the hospital in order to have the opportunity to visit Rachel. "Did you see it in there? They had an entire train set, Rach now come on! Let's go play, I think that they even have a microphone in there, you can sing Rachel; you can sing and I can play with the trains."<em>

_ Having been holed up in school al day, Noah hadn't had the opportunity to play since during his recess at lunchtime, and being the rambunctious six year old that he was, the playroom that they had passed on the way to Rachel's room had sized up relatively nicely. _

_ "I don't want to Noah," Rachel had sighed, curling her body into a fetal position against her mattress, burrowing her tiny form deeper beneath the sheets. "I don't feel so good today."_

_ "That's okay!" Noah hadn't quite grasped the extent of Rachel's words, instead, he simply climbed on top of her bed, bouncing gently as he attempted to pull his sister out from beneath her blanket cocoon. "We can ride in one of those wheelchairs again! Daddy can push us, right daddy?"_

_ Noah turned towards his father as the man walked slowly into the room behind him, his eyes sunken, tired as he returned from speaking with one of the many doctors that Noah had met in the past several days, the ones who were in charge of trying to get Rachel better again._

_ "Noah get down from there!" Hiram had snapped violently, snatching Noah in a manner that had deflated the boy in an instant, leaving him to flop limply against his father's arms so that by the time the older man had seated Noah firmly against the chair besides Rachel's bed, the boy simply slid down the fabric, nearly falling from the furniture entirely. _

_ "What did I tell you Noah?" The boy's eyes swelled, tears leaking from their corners as Hiram's voice grew progressively louder. "Me and your mom already talked to you about this! Rachel is not feeling well Noah, and the medicine that she is taking in order to make her feel better is going to make her very sick and very tired. She isn't always going to want to play with you, Noah, how many times do I have to tell you that?"_

_ Hiram was yelling, his voice carrying across the room in a manner that only forced the tears from Noah's eyes out even faster. But the older man finally paused, silencing with a dramatic suddenness, just as Noah had finally pressed himself as far into his chair as was humanly possible._

_ "I'm sorry Noah," Hiram had sighed following an extended bout of silence. "Your daddy… he's just tired, Noah. I'm just worried… I'm worried about both you and your sister, do you understand?"_

_ Noah nodded slowly through a sniffle, wiping at the lingering tears still seeping from both of his eyes with the backs of his hands._

_ "Come on," The man beckoned, "I'll buy you a soda." He pressed his luck in bribing his son, grabbing onto the young boy's hand, guiding him gently through the hallway where the vending machine rested in the waiting room at the opposite length…_

_ "You know Noah," Hiram hadn't spoken until he was certain that they were safe in the privacy of the waiting room, but even still, he was concentrating so heavily on the change that he had been depositing into the slot of the vending machine, that Noah wasn't sure whether or not he was talking to him, or the inanimate object in front of him… As it was, Noah resisted the urge to remind his dad that in fact, he hated soda. "I know that things haven't been so easy lately, with your sister being sick and all… You shouldn't have to grow up and become a man so soon, Noah; not like this. But you need to understand that me and your mom and especially Rachel need you to be very brave and very strong right now, okay? I know it's hard for you to understand right now, but Rachel might not want to play with you all the time anymore…"_

_ He hands the boy the soda, but Hiram's hands are shaking so violently, that the carbonated beverage fizzes, posing the possibility of exploding should Noah dare to open it… he doesn't._

"_Let's just hope that she'll get to again soon."_

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><p>"Hey Noah, buddy, how about I take you down to the playroom until Rachel is feeling a little bit better, huh?" Hiram is in front of his son abruptly, attempting to make eye contact with the boy despite his constant attempts towards looking past his father, not wanting to take his eyes off of his crying sister for even one second.<p>

But Noah doesn't get so much as a word in edgewise before Hiram is steering his son towards the open hallway; and despite his internal resistance, Noah simply nods his head and complies to his father's motions, following the older man's footsteps, but not before sneaking one last, sharp glance into Rachel's room where she is continuously screaming, still crying and fighting her way through her latest chemotherapy session…

Her eyes linger briefly, assessing his younger sister's frail form with one quick glance so that, with a dramatic pang that lurches at his very heart, he notices that something is off… more specifically, the most important something is off…

"Wait!" Noah stops abruptly, his sudden ceasing in motion surprising his unsuspecting father so that he tugs almost painfully at the smaller boy's thin arm…

"Noah, wh-" Hiram turns to address the boy, but Noah doesn't hear him, in fact, he's already half way back inside of Rachel's room, his small body weaving through the cluster of people so that he can climb gently on top of Rachel's bed; face set with accomplishment, arms outstretched in order to gain the attention of the occupants of the room.

"Noah honey, what are you doing?" Shelby asks him, her voice filled with a sense of exhausted exasperation as she makes the motion to grab him beneath the armpits and lift him off of the bed. "Come on sweetie, Rachel needs to start her chemotherapy, you have to – "

"It's Barbra mom, she's missing!" Noah locks eyes with his mother, screaming what he knew should have been obvious all along… Rachel always had Barbra, _always_… except for today. "Rachel doesn't have Barbra, but she needs her to start her chemotherapy. She can't take her medicine without Barbra, it makes her feel better, momma! Right, Rach?"

Rachel hiccups gently, her sobs reducing into soft sniffles as she pauses in her previously relentless fighting, releasing a feeble nod, still unable to speak through her distraught trauma.

Inside of the inner-most depths of Shelby's mind, a light flashes… how could she have not noticed that Barbra was missing? After all, the stuffed rabbit had become a commanding part of Rachel's life ever since the girl had been born.

"I can't find her anywhere, momma." Rachel splutters through her tears.

"It's okay honey, it's okay," Shelby assures the girl, leaning forwards gently to wipe a comforting hand across what still remained of Rachel's dark hair as she extends a gratuitous wink towards Noah's general direction. "We'll find her, I promise… We'll find Barbra."

Shelby is barely finished speaking before she is on the rampage; tearing the room apart violently in an effort to locate the missing stuffed animal; blankets, pillows, clothing, the entirety of the contents of Shelby's bag spilling across the floor as she throws them roughly about the room.

"Rachel sweetie," A nurse descends down upon Rachel, blocking their frantic mother from view so that Rachel automatically shrivels with fear all over again, her body curling into Noah's as he wraps his arm around hers, pulling her protectively closer into his body, determined not to allow this woman, who was clearly just trying to hurt his sister, from getting too close. "Do you think that maybe we can start while your mom is looking for Barbra, and she can join you a little bit later?"

"No!" Rachel shrieks, thrusting herself beneath the blankets so that she becomes nothing more than a tiny mass of fabric.

Noah can see the frustration written across the faces of all of the grownups around him… They didn't seem to understand, they never did; Noah should have known from the beginning that this would have been better left up to him.

"Hey Ray," He brightens with an idea, turning himself towards his sister. "I bet you that Barbra is probably just hungry. She probably went outside to eat some grass or something…But I can stay here with you until Barbra gets back…"

Rachel considers her brother's offer momentarily as they stare into each other's eyes, identical in every way in an effort to judge the other's intentions… It's only after several moments that seem like forever, that she finally releases a curt little nod.

"Okay."

"Come on," He beckons her closer into him, extending his arm outward in a motion that she complies to immediately, shifting briefly against her brother's side before finally finding a comfortable position.

"How about now, honey? Are you ready to start now?" The nurse who had been struggling with Rachel for the past several minutes addresses the child, finally looking both sympathetic and patient so that Rachel finally feels comfortable enough to nod her head although she still can't help but to push her body a little bit deeper into her brother's side.

"You know, that's some great big brother that you have there, Rachel," The woman speaks aloud, flashing Noah a quick smile that he returns proudly as she attempts to distract Rachel from her fidgeting with the three-pronged catheter protruding from the young girl's frail chest, attaching the IV line to the correct one in a much easier manner than the hour-long ordeal would have otherwise suggested.

"He's the best." Rachel agrees with an acute nod as Noah's body stiffens, retaining his dutiful positioning guarding her, straightening himself upwards a little bit more in response to Rachel's seemingly approving stance.

"Well you two are both very lucky to have each other." The nurse addresses the two children simultaneously as the now-familiar, steady dripping of chemotherapeutic drugs begin to descend downwards into Rachel's veins. "Okay Rachel, you are all set… I'll be back in a couple of hours and don't worry; I'll keep an eye out for Barbra while I'm gone."

She gives Rachel a sharp smile, the younger girl releasing nothing more than a feeble nod in response, growing uncharacteristically shy in a trademark that Noah knew was indicative of her not feeling particularly well this afternoon.

"Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran, do you think that I can speak with you outside in the hallway real quick?" The nurse turns her attention away from Rachel and Noah and onto their parents, Shelby looking briefly taken aback by the nurse's request to leave her child's side so quickly after beginning her treatment although she complies with a short nod despite herself.

"Noah honey," Shelby turns towards him quickly, "Me and your daddy are going to go outside and talk to the nurse. We'll be right outside in the hallway if you need me, but can you do me a favor and watch your sister until we get back?"

Noah nods aggressively, his back straightening automatically, eager to take on the vital role that his parents had trusted him with.

"I always do."

"You're a good boy, Noah." Shelby flashes him a bright smile that has her son beaming with pride. "We'll be right back." The parents duck from view directly beyond the door of Rachel's room, so close, that Noah can see their shadows cast right beyond the boundary, but still, Noah stiffens automatically, his protective arm around the back of Rachel's shoulder tightening as he continues to stand guard, knowing full well that as long as he was around, no crazy person or monster hiding in the closet or blood cancer could ever get to his little sister… ever.

"Thank you, Noah," Rachel mutters under her breath after an extended, yet comfortable silence, her head digging just a little bit further into Noah's bony shoulder.

"You're welcome, Ray," Noah assures the girl. "And don't worry, I'll watch you until Barbra get's back… I promise."

"Maybe you can stay," Rachel insists, pulling her head up and away from Noah's shoulder so that the two siblings could quickly lock eyes, "Even after Barbra comes back, you can still stay… me and Barbra like it when you're around."

Noah beams quickly, happy to accept the invitation as he squeezes Rachel's shoulder gently in response, the two falling into a comfortable silence that left Noah expecting his sister, who has had exhaustion in her eyes since the moment he'd first seen her this afternoon, to rest her head back against his shoulder, to fall asleep nestled protectively inside of his arms, but she never did…

Instead, Noah was met with the release of a soft gasp that escapes from just beyond Rachel's mouth, followed immediately by a brief sniffle that all at once, had Noah's heart seizing inside of his chest, terrified that he had done something wrong, terrified that he had somehow hurt her.

"What's the matter?" Noah's throat grows dry, his voice emitting uncharacteristically low and raspy with fear. "Are you still sad because you can't find Barbra?"

"No," Rachel answers feebly, shaking her head slowly against Noah's shoulder.

"Then what is it?" Noah squeezes his sister tighter, determined to convince her to talk to him. "Come on Ray, you can tell me."

There were several extended seconds in which the room filled uncomfortably with a thick silence so that the only thing that could be heard throughout the entirety of the room was the soft dripping of the chemotherapeutic drugs down the length of the IV line, shuffling into Rachel's system alongside the steady, synchronized rhythm of Noah's heartbeat racing against his ribcage.

"Look," Rachel finally speaks after several seconds, her voice high-pitched, sad as she points with her eyes; offering a silent request towards Noah to follow her motions so that in an instant, he knows exactly what it is that Rachel has become so upset about… Woven into the shoulder of the boy's white, woolen sweater were numerous, thick stands of Rachel's dark hair; once so long and prominent atop her head, now impossibly thin, starkly absent upon having been falling out steadily for several days at this point.

"Is that your hair?" Noah asks in pure wonderment as he fingers a few of the stray strands, plucking them from his shirt. "Cool…"

"I look like a freak, Noah!" Rachel pouts, disagreeing with her brother's viewpoint on the manner… Of course, Shelby, as well as Rachel's doctors had already warned the girl that her hair would fall out, that this was just how the medicine that was trying to make her feel better again worked, but Noah knew that Rachel hadn't liked the idea of it then, and she certainly didn't like it now…

Noah, on the other hand, simply did not understand… He didn't understand why anybody would have to take a medicine that left you tired all of the time, and had you constantly throwing up and made all of your hair fall out, he didn't understand at all… Chemotherapy wasn't making Rachel better; it was making her worse; couldn't anybody else see this?

"Who told you that you look like a freak?" Noah asks, growing immediately defensive; Rachel was only four years old, she shouldn't even know what that word meant… Besides, Noah knew for a fact that this was a bad word, that if he ever used it in front of his mom, she would be washing his mouth out with soap in a heartbeat…

"Nobody said it _yet_, Noah," Rachel sighs, clearly frustrated by the situation as a whole. "But everybody is gonna think it, I just know it."

"Well I don't think it." Noah professes proudly, emphasizing his every syllable. "You can't be a freak; you're the coolest little sister that I know. Besides, you don't have to worry about anybody making fun of you because if they do, they'll have to answer to me."

"I don't know, Noah…" Rachel sniffles her disbelief towards her brother's best of intentions so that the second that Noah began to see the tears welling up into his sister's eyes, he knew he would have to act, he knew that he would have to take it one step further…

"Wait," He sprung with a notion of pure genius, the thought abruptly entering into his mind. "I have an idea, hang on…"

With an expert maneuvering, Noah lowers himself down from Rachel's bed onto his feet, rushing as quickly as his tiny legs could carry him over towards the small, private bathroom in the corner of Rachel's room.

"Noah, where are you going?" He could hear Rachel's inquiry towards his intentions, but her words travelled straight through his head; he was a man on a mission, and for right now, he couldn't be stopped…

He knew that it had to be in here somewhere, after all, he had seen his daddy using it to shave his beard just yesterday; the small, silver razor that Noah had always been told by both of his parents never to touch because it was very, very sharp and it could easily hurt him had he chose to play with it…

But today was a special occasion; Noah knew that, and he knew that his mom and dad would too; today, it would be okay for him to take the razor, because today, he wasn't playing, he had something very, very important to do – Shelby had asked him to take care of his sister while she was gone, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

In a burst of light, the small device appeared to him; the bright fluorescents littering the ceiling capturing the glare against the soft metal Shick in a manner that had literally left it glistening…

He grabs the handle of the razor carefully, having heard the horror stories of what happens when kids play with sharp objects, holding it gently between his ring finger and his thumb, extending it in front of him as far as his tiny arm could stretch as he walks slowly from the bathroom back towards Rachel's bed.

"What is it?" Rachel asks, peeking her head carefully as far as she could as Noah clamors back onto the mattress, sitting Indian style besides his sister.

"It's a razor," Noah explains, splaying the device strategically inside of his palm so that Rachel can investigate it. "Daddy uses it to shave his beard; you've seen him do it, Rach."

"Yeah but Noah, you're not supposed to use it!" Rachel shrieks in her concern, "Mommy and daddy said so."

"It's okay, Rachel," Noah assures the younger girl as he lifts the blade upwards and towards the spot where his forehead met with his hairline. "I see daddy doing this all the time, watch."

His hands quivering slightly with nerves and anticipation, Noah swipes the blade slowly across the length of his scalp, grimacing as it tugs uncomfortably against the short hair follicles, pulling painfully as it slices them away before leaving a dull, residual burning behind.

"Noah!" Rachel squeals with her delight as her brother finishes dragging the razor down the length of the center of his scalp, leaving a tiny reverse mohawk behind in its wake… The boy's head is stinging with residual razor burn, and he's quite certain that he had cut himself more than once in the process, but Rachel is giggling with amusement, and to Noah, that was all that mattered.

"Noah Eifah Corcoran, what do you think you're doing!" The abrupt shriek of his mother's accusing voice, meshing with a perfect combination of shock, horror and anger jolts Noah dangerously just as he is lifting the razor upwards towards his scalp once more, leaving a small nick against the skin that has him wincing with pain.

The combination of motions overwhelm Noah's tiny body; his wince of pain, his leap of surprise, and he drops the razor down against the mattress below him, finding himself immediately losing his balance, leaving him teetering dangerously at the edge of Rachel's bed, where all at once, he becomes very much aware of the idea that he'd forgotten to re-raise the guardrails following his return from the bathroom…

But his revelation strikes him mere seconds too late; his mother and father both lurch forwards simultaneously, Rachel reaching to grab at him from the other direction… But their combined efforts come up just short, leaving Noah plunging off of the edge of the bed headfirst, where he lands with a sickening thud against the hard linoleum floor below.

Noah felt the blood begin to pool before he'd actually felt the pain; the warm, thick liquid dripping from the sizeable gash along his brow.

"Oh my God, Noah are you okay?" His vision danced around him briefly, focusing in and out in a fuzzy picture so that it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust and for him to recognize that he was actually on the ground, currently staring at the underside of Rachel's hospital bed and, right in the middle of it, a tiny, worn-white stuffed bunny rabbit lying limply on its side, just waiting for somebody to find it.

"Look mom," Noah responds to his mother's inquiry as the woman squats before him and gathers him up into her arms in an effort to evaluate the damage that Noah's fall had left behind. "I found Barbra, I found Barbra look!"

"Oh Noah…" Shelby sighs, seemingly not noticing the boy's frantically jovial revelation as he points to the space beneath Rachel's bed where Barbra still lies. "Hiram, Hiram bring me some paper towels! Rachel honey, can you please hit your nurse's button?"

Shelby shouts her orders, trying desperately to stay calm as her son continues to bleed freely from the prominent head wound.

"Okay Noah, come on," Shelby speaks gently to her son, pressing the bundle of paper towels that Hiram had extended towards her firmly against the cut in his forehead in a manner that makes the boy wince. "We're gonna have to take you downstairs to the ER, you're gonna need a few stitches, buddy."

"Mom, wait!" Noah struggles against his mother's arms as she attempts to lift the boy into the air and carry him away, twisting and turning until finally, he escapes from her grasp, crawling beneath the tight space between the bed and the floor, his arm outstretched to the point that it ached, reaching until his hand finally grasps around Barbra's fuzzy arm.

"Barbra!" Rachel grins with delight, seemingly oblivious to the idea that her brother was currently gushing blood from his forehead as he emerges with her prized possession, her vision tunneling in onto the stuffed animal that he extends towards her. "Thank you Noah, thank you!" She squeals her gratitude, clutching onto the old rabbit, squeezing it tightly into her chest.

"Alright Noah, come on," Shelby gathers the boy quickly into her arms, trying desperately to remain calm although her motions are frantic. "Hiram, can you stay here with Rachel?"

"Of course," Hiram accepts the rationing of time between their two children, both about to be admitted inside of the same hospital. "Stay strong, little man."

"I will, daddy." Noah assures his father, determined for Hiram to see just how strong that he could be; not only for himself, but for Rachel as well.

"Bye Noah," Rachel waves feebly, clutching tighter onto the stuffed rabbit in the sudden absence of her brother. "I hope you feel better."

"Bye Rachel," Noah reciprocates to the wave watching his sister slowly disappear with every step away that Shelby takes, from his positioning over the back of his mother's shoulder. "I hope you feel better too."

The duo turns the corner and out of Rachel's room, the girl officially disappearing from his sight with one final, supportive smile.

"I'm very proud of you today, Noah." Shelby mutters into his ear as a series of nurses previously lounging around the nurse's station rushes towards them in the obvious exclamation of Noah's injury. "You did a very, very good job watching Rachel today, and you are being so brave."

"Thank you momma," Noah mumbles into her ear as she continues rocking him gently against her arm just as the prominent sting begins to settle slowly inside of the very pit of his forehead, squeezing a handful of involuntary tears from his eyes.

Had it been any other day, Noah knew that he would have been sobbing, wailing in the pain associated with cracking open his forehead, but not now, not today…

Today, Noah Corcoran had finally become his little sister's hero, just as he promised he would. And for him, nothing in the entire world could have ever possibly ruined that.

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><p><span>Crazy-wee-cat<span> – Sorry to make you cry! But I'm glad you're enjoying. I promise you that updates will come a lot quicker once I stop spending money I don't have following my football team around the country haha.

CloudGazer15 – No problem at all, really, it's the least I can do for all of you guys being amazing. Hahaha, there will be much more Noah Rachel banter coming along from all of their point of views, I promise! Thanks for the review.

Sillystarshine – Aww, thanks. I hate filler chapters so I felt bad throwing one up here so soon, but I figured it was a necessity. Hiram's death involves a little bit more than meets the eye and has a lot to do with Noah's character development so it's going to be a little bit of a mystery for a while (I apologize in advance for keeping you hanging haha) Noah definitely does everything he does just to mess with Rachel, he's a typical older brother in that way :)

TommyH – Hahaha thank you, I'll try to keep it up to par

Marinka4 – These guys have been through a lot but there's definitely a lot more headed their way. I'd keep the tissues ready just in case :) Thanks for the review!


	7. Noah Corcoran January 2001 Part II

**Okay, so this is the last chapter from little Noah's perspective before we get to shoot back into the future again, so I threw a couple of new characters (by a couple I mean one) in there and a plot that might not seem to important now, but is going to be huge when it comes to Noah's character development. **

**And of course, thanks as always for the absolutely amazing response I've had to this story, and please, don't be afraid to tell me what you think, literally my favorite part is reading/responding to reviews so their all appreciated!**

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran – <strong>_January 2001_

_Part II_

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><p>"Go ahead Noah honey," Shelby shoos her son towards the blacktop adorning the front entrance of the boy's elementary school, exemplifying her sudden realization towards the fact that the rest of his classmates had already begun lining up in alphabetical order, waiting to be lead inside. "It will be okay, I promise."<p>

He looks upward, glancing tentatively towards his mother; suddenly, he's feeling impossibly young in his desire to be held, to be protected, to go back on the year's worth of arguing that he'd emitted attempting to convince his mother that he was indeed, old enough to walk the block and a half to school by himself.

Understandably, Noah is more than slightly nervous about his return to school; ten stitches in his forehead and a mild concussion ensuring a week long absence that has since left him remarkably timid.

"Everybody's going to make fun of me, momma." The young boy releases an exaggerated whine, pointing a tiny finger upwards towards his forehead where a series of butterfly bandages align the still-scabbing scar reminiscent of the stitches that he had had removed only yesterday.

"No, they won't Noah," Rachel assures her brother gently, encouragement delivered from her position tucked snug between her mother's arms. "I'll make sure of it."

The girl mirrors her brother's typical measure of support in the pep-talk he generally provided every time she found herself feeling particularly down so that Noah couldn't help but to guess that sometimes, even a hero could use a hero of his own.

"Thanks Rachel," Noah smirks feebly, watching as Rachel's face contorts with what he's fairly certain is a smile although he can't be certain; his mother had had Rachel bundled up so tightly this morning, that he could hardly even see his sister's face… Shelby had taken all possible precautions bringing Rachel outside into the frigid January air, and although the girl had kicked, screamed and fought against the mass of extra clothing that roughly equated to the entirety of her body weight, it was understandable…

Released from the hospital and into her parents' care mere days ago, Rachel's doctors had decided to give the girl the chance to recover from her previous chemotherapy round in the comforts of her own home before she was slated to begin her next… But the change from the safe and sterile hospital environment into the perilous open air was a task that has proven stressful for the parents, now constantly terrified of the possible consequences that could result in an error of their own sanitary precautions.

Shelby and Hiram had attempted explaining to Noah exactly what it was that the doctor's had told them; that because of the medication that Rachel has been taking, she's been left severely immunocompromised; a word whose meaning Noah had no idea about until yesterday, when his mother had attempted explaining to him that Rachel simply doesn't have any more cells inside of her body to kill all of the bad bugs that can get in there and make her sick.

It was why Barbra now had to be wrapped inside of a plastic Ziploc bag every time Rachel wanted to sleep with her. It was why Noah now had to wash his hands every time he so much as touched his nose. It was why now; the only thing his mother cooked for dinner anymore was tasteless, terrible, steamed, organic, crud.

Noah hated the changes; he hated the fact that they never seemed to stop coming no matter what he did or how hard he worked trying to get Rachel better again… But he guessed that if this was all in the name of Rachel getting better again, than he could stand it.

"Thanks Rach," Noah expresses his gratitude, but his heart still sinks with the perspective horrors that he has already predicted to be in store for this school day as he allows his mother to gently drape the arms of his backpack across his respective shoulders. "Bye momma… Bye Rachel."

"Goodbye baby," Shelby pulls her son into a tight, one-armed hug before she waves him off to go and join his fellow classmates. "Have a good day at school, I'll see you later… Oh, and Noah?" She calls for her son's attention once more, watching the boy as he skids to an abrupt halt, turning to face his mother with an inquiring look splayed across his face. "I love you the most."

"Love you the most," Noah reciprocates his mother's affection with a small smirk and one last wave before he approaches his fellow classmates, taking his alphabetically assigned position in their diligently awaiting line directly in between Abigail Canty and Mikey Doyle.

"Hey, did you guys see that freak over there?" He has barely settled into his line before he hears the jeering remarks from somewhere down its length… Noah's head turns – practically on its own accord – in an effort to investigate the originator of the retort, unsurprised to find David Karofsky to be the perpetrator.

Noah evaluates the boy carefully, studying him in an effort to see whether or not David, who was constantly making Noah's life a living hell, was directing such harsh statements towards him; but David didn't seem to be looking towards Noah… In fact, he didn't seem to be looking at any of them.

Instead, David was doubled over with laughter, his eyes tearing as he pointed towards the mass of parents beyond the hill, gathered to wave their children goodbye for the day… Noah's eyes follow the trajectory spelled carefully by Karofsky's finger, his eyes ultimately finding his mother, still clutching firmly onto Rachel as she runs after the young girl's hat, blowing relentlessly down the sidewalk in a sudden gust of harsh winds.

"What do you think it is?" David manages through his laughter. "I mean, it's wearing pink, but it has no hair, so is it a girl or is it a boy?"

Noah feels his eyes narrow into slits as they focus inward onto David Karofsky. His tiny fists are clenching to the extent that his knuckles begin to blanch from restricted blood flow. He breathes heavily, sharp exhales emitting from his nose with the force of a raging bull; the only thing that he can possibly focus on being how impossibly hard he wishes to hit David Karofsky in this moment.

"Noah, where do you think you're going?" He hasn't even realized that he's stepped out from his position in line, stomping over towards David Karofsky with his fists drawn until he hears his young teacher calling him back. "Come on, we're getting ready to go inside, get back in line please."

The woman guides him dutifully back to his position in the line with a gentle hand against his shoulder, his tense muscles relaxing beneath her touch as he eyes David with one final, squinty-eyed grimace before turning to follow the remainder of his classmates inside of his school…

By the time he's tucked safely inside of his classroom, the adrenaline is pouring so rampantly across Noah's tiny body that he's trembling; barely able to so much as take his jacket off, his hands are shaking so hard in his rage.

"I can't believe we actually got to see a real, live freak!" Noah has just managed to latch the hood of his winter coat onto the hook when David Karofsky's voice seers through his ears once more, freezing his muscles in response so that he tenses painfully, his jacket falling to the floor against his feet.

But this time, he doesn't bother to pick it up; instead he leaves it where it lays, performing an abrupt about-face so that, with feet pounding against the floor with as much force as he could possibly muster, Noah marches towards David Karofsky and his goons, laughing relentlessly all around him.

"Hey, Karofsky!" Noah shouts for his classmate's attention, the young bully's face setting briefly in response to the tone of sheer rage behind Noah's voice before turning back upwards in a taunting manner.

"What do you want, Booger Brain?" Karofsky sneers, him and his cronies jeering like wild animals in response to the favorite go-to insult.

"I want you to shut up about my little sister, is what I want!" Noah's voice carries louder than he has originally intends, the entirety of his classroom falling stunningly silent in response to the utterance of such a restricted phrase as _shut up_.

"That freak out there on the blacktop is your sister?" Karofsky's face brightens with the realization. "Well Corcoran, if your sister is a freak, than I guess that you must be one too!" David jabs his finger into Noah's chest, leaving a dull throb behind that radiates straight through his ribcage and into his heart, igniting the thumping organ dangerously.

"My sister isn't a freak, David!" Noah shouts, his voice elevating above his classmate's heads as they circled around the pair with baited breath, waiting to see what would happen next. "She's the best little sister ever, she's just sick, that's all. She's sick and all of the medicine that she has to take to make her better again makes her lose her hair, that's why she doesn't have any!"

"There's no such thing!" David spat angrily in his accusation. "Now not only are you a freak, you're a liar, and I bet that your stupid sister is too!"

Noah's tiny fist juts outwards practically on its own accord, flying towards David's face in a manner that left not even Noah expecting the contact as his clenched fingers strike David Karofsky's left eye socket with a perfect accuracy in a manner that sends the small boy sprawling against the floor…

For the briefest of moments, the silence is absolutely deafening; not a single individual within the entire vicinity of the classroom making the slightest of noises… Instead, they watch horrorstruck, mouths open in shock as David rolls against the tile floor below, howling in pain as he clutches onto his swelling face.

"You're dead, Corcoran!" He shouts his threat, slowly gaining the strength to lift himself onto his knees where he eyes Noah with an expression of pure, unadulterated rage.

Besides them, the roars of the fellow bystanders erupt all around them, cheering their classmates on as David pounces upward from his position against the floor, wrapping Noah into an impressive tackle that brings Noah to the ground easily, leaving the boy free to climb atop his peer where he immediately begins to wail his closed fists relentlessly down upon Noah's defenseless body.

The young child reacts instinctively, curling himself into a protective ball as he shields his face from David's blows with his arms, tears streaming from both of his eyes as he pleads for help.

"Noah! David! What's going on here?" Their teacher responds to the commotion, rushing into the classroom from the hallway and towards the two boys, continuously rolling violently against the floor amidst the mass of first graders.

"My sister isn't a freak, Karofsky!" Noah is pulled to his feet by his teacher, his face red with anger and tears, his right eye already swelling painfully in response to the tiny fist that had met it mere moments ago. "You better take that back, she's not a freak, she's the strongest person ever!

"She is a freak!" Karofsky continues, fighting to edge his way beyond the barricade established by their teacher in between them, fists still drawn threateningly. "I saw it myself; Noah Corcoran's sister is a giant freak!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Noah is screaming so loudly that it hurts even his own head, leaving him with no choice but to cover his hears in an effort to block the relentless taunts that David continues to make about Rachel.

Never before in his entire life, had Noah been so angry, had he ever hated anything, anyone like this… He was too young to truly understand anger, too young to understand hate, too young to understand the extent of a rage so profound that it had no choice but to manifest itself into a physical outlet… until today that was.

Today Noah Corcoran _hated_, and he hated like no emotion that he has ever felt before in his entire life. He hated his school, he hated David Karofsky, he hated the cancer that currently had the entire town pinpointing his sister as a freak, and he hated the idea that nobody but him seemed to understand that his little sister wasn't anything less than a hero.

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><p>He had been all but dragged down into the principal's office, his head held in shame the entire time as students peaked curiously from their classroom windows in an effort to investigate the source of such an unorthodox commotion.<p>

The principal had suspended him from school for one entire day for fighting with David, and as if that wasn't punishment enough, he'd have to go to detention for the next two whole weeks during recess… Of course, this was nothing compared to what his mother was going to do to him once she arrived…

"Your mother is on her way, Noah." Principal Vioni guides Noah towards the row of chairs situated directly outside of his office. "I have to speak with David right now, but until she gets here I do not want you to move from this seat, do you understand me?" He delivers his stern command, rendering Noah involuntarily obliged to climb atop the seat with a soft nod…

Noah sighs in his frustrations, his skull swelling as they continue to build up inside of his brain, the relief provided by the icepack currently held against his blackening eye minimal… His legs dangle back and forth against the oversized chair as Principal Vioni doubles back into his office, the adrenaline previously coursing through his veins dying down in a manner that left the bruises, now littering his tiny body, stinging harshly.

"What's a matter?"

Noah's head snaps upwards harshly in response to the sudden presence of another voice in his mist, his eyes locking upon a small, brown-haired boy that he recognizes as being in his own grade, albeit a different class so that he can't quite remember his name off of the top of his head.

"Nothing…" Noah insists, his tears stopping abruptly in response to a second presence, leaving him free to wipe away at that which remains although the evidence lingers in his puffy, bloodshot eyes.

"It doesn't look like nothing," The boy insists, "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not!" Noah insists sharply, his elevated emotions emphasized by his snapping at the young boy before him.

"Is it true that you beat up David Karofsky?" With a heavy sigh, Noah turns to meet the boy's eyes once more, his mouth open in shock towards the acknowledgment that his scuffle was currently spreading across his elementary school like wild fire.

"Hey don't be sad," The boy tells him, responding to his lingering silence. "I've always wanted to punch David Karofsky in the face too; he's always being mean to me… Why'd you do it anyway?"

"He called my sister a freak," Noah huffs, still clearly heated by the mere recalling of his story, "He called her a freak because she has no hair, but my sister isn't a freak, she's just really, really sick and she has no hair because the medicine that she's getting to make her feel better again is making her lose it."

"Wow…" The boy looks towards Noah with a confused wonderment, "I never had to take any kind of medicine like that…"

"Well they have it!" Noah insists, growing automatically, yet understandably defensive, "And besides, my sister isn't sick like normal people get sick. My sister is really, really, really sick…" He exemplifies the perils of his younger sister's journey, hoping for the boy's understanding seeing as he truly wasn't in the mood to get into yet another fight today…

"Hey, I think I've heard of that," They boy's face brightens with realization, allowing Noah to sit taller inside of his seat in the excitement that maybe, for once, somebody his own age held the capacity to understand exactly what it was currently happening inside of his family. "We sold candy in our class so that we could raise money for your sister. My momma told me that she has a very bad disease called… called… lake-man."

"Leukemia," Noah corrects him quickly. "It means that my sister's blood cells don't grow like normal people's do so that if she doesn't get the medicine that she needs, she might even die."

"And if she does get it than she won't die?" He asks Noah, genuinely interested as Noah nods his head vigorously in his confirmation.

"My dad died…" The boy sighs suddenly, casting his eyes quickly downward towards his feet. "When I was just a baby, but still, it made me really sad… I hope your sister doesn't die so that you don't have to be sad, but still, I don't think that she's a freak, I think that she's pretty brave to have to face bullies like that just because she's sick, and I think that you're pretty brave too for standing up for your sister… If I had a little sister, I would do the same thing."

"Thanks," Noah exhales steeply, turning to face the boy standing beside him as he flashes him a bright, gratuitous smile.

"No problem… Hey, wait," The boy turns inwards, closer into Noah's face, evaluating for the first time, the black eye littering down the length of his bony cheekbone. "Your face kind of looks like a hockey puck, did you know that?"

Noah's brows furrow inward as he ducks his face out of sight, immediately embarrassed…

"Yeah, well your face looks like a butt!" He shoots the retort back quickly, the anger once more, swelling inside of him in manner that almost scared him, but to his surprise, the boy didn't look mad, he didn't look upset, instead, he just laughs…

"No, not like that," He howls in his laughter while meanwhile, Noah's face settles in confusion. "I think that it makes you look cool…"

"Oh…" Noah allows his muscles to relax, his defense falling with the understanding that this boy wasn't trying to make fun of him, he was just trying to make him feel better…

"Hey… Hockey Puck, I like that name, it can be Puck for short…"

"But my name is Noah." He arches his eyebrow with confusion, the boy simply laughing even more as he shakes his head towards Noah.

"I think Puck is cooler… So, hi Puck," He informs the boy, sticking out his hand in an expression of greeting, allowing Noah to grab onto it and deliver a small shake in response…

"I'm Finn."

* * *

><p>Noah Corcoran was in trouble.<p>

Today had been so strange already that poor Noah was no longer certain of a lot of things, but this, he knew for absolute certain; he was in big, big trouble…

The boy tenses from his position against the couch the second that he hears the ominous clicking of his mother's heels against the wooden floor, clicking louder and louder towards him as she approaches from Rachel's bedroom, where she had disappeared from only briefly in an effort to put the girl down for a nap…

Shelby hadn't said a single word to Noah since she'd picked him up from school following his suspension, and Noah has been in this position more than enough times to understand exactly what that meant…

He was in trouble… big trouble.

"Okay kiddo," Shelby speaks, rounding into the living room where she sits immediately across from the young boy, elbows propped against her knees as she leans further in towards her son. "Start talking."

Noah's eyes turn immediately downwards and into his hands as he begins to fidget with them from their position against his lap… For several tense seconds, they linger in silence, Shelby studying her son's face carefully as the boy attempts to merely sink out of sight within the very couch cushions.

He is waiting for his mother to yell, waiting for her to scream, and most importantly, he is just hoping that she will do it fast, get it over with before he loses it completely…

"You know Noah, Principal Vioni already told me what happened today between you and David…" Shelby informs the boy, attempting to coax her son into speaking the truth. "But you know I would really like to hear the story from you…"

Her voice was smooth, gentle, it was typical of his consistently cool-headed mother… But once, just this once, Noah found himself unable but to help but to wish that she would just yell at him, exchange the look of disappointment currently glaring a hole through his chest for one of pure, unadulterated anger.

"He called Rachel a freak, mom!" Noah shouts so suddenly that Shelby can't help but jump, the boy unable to contain his bubbling emotions any longer as they spiraled frantically. "He called her a freak, but Rachel isn't a freak, she's my sister! And I told David that, but he wouldn't stop so I… so I…"

"So you hit him." Shelby finishes Noah's sentence with a soft, sympathetic smile and a brief nod that Noah reciprocates in return. "Noah, honey…" Shelby takes a deep breath, attempting to collect the appropriate words, "What David today, what he said about your sister, it was wrong… I know that. But still, Noah, you need to realize that not all people understand about the things that are happening to our family… to Rachel. Your sister being sick makes a lot of people very, very nervous, Noah… It scares people sometimes, when they see other people so sick, and sometimes, when people are scared or when they're angry they say and they do things that they don't really mean… Just like what you did today."

"Do you think that David is scared, momma?" Noah inquires curiously, allowing his eyes to peak upwards from their position locked firmly against the ground for the first time since his mother had sat down across from him.

"I think that David just doesn't understand." Shelby explains herself after a few brief seconds of careful consideration. "It's hard for people, especially people your age to understand things like this… Do you remember how you felt when you first learned that Rachel was sick? You were very confused, and very scared, just like mommy and daddy were… right?"

Noah nods his head vigorously, emphasizing his inability to ever forget exactly how he felt on the day that his momma had brought Rachel into the hospital, and hadn't brought her back out.

"You're a very special boy, Noah," Shelby reaches over to place a gentle hand against her son's small knee. "You're smart and you're brave, and I'm very proud of you for sticking up for your sister like you did, but at the same time, I am very disappointed that you decided to hit David… What should you have done instead?"

"Told a teacher that David was teasing…" Noah sighs; he knows that that was the correct thing for him to have done, he'd known that since this morning on the blacktop, but _he_ was the big brother here, _he _was the man that was supposed to be protecting his family, not some cruddy old teacher…

"That's right," Shelby nods her head in her confirmation… apparently; she did not share his views on that matter. "And if it ever happens again, I want you to tell a grown up right away, okay?"

"Okay," Noah responds, carefully lifting his head so that his eyes meet his mother's.

"Good boy," Shelby nods in a definitive manner that indicates that – much to Noah's shock – his scolding is over; finished before it has even truly begun.

"So… you're not mad?" He pushes his mother dangerously in his disbelief.

"No Noah," Shelby sighs in her confirmation of her son's inquiry, shaking her head back and forth in order to emphasize herself, "But I still never want to hear anymore stories of you fighting in school every again, okay?"

"Okay," Noah nods in his promise.

"Promise?" Shelby asks him, raising her eyebrow skeptically upwards towards her mischievous son.

"Pinky promise," Noah commits to the swear, extending the pinky of his right hand outwards and towards his mother, who accepts the motion, wrapping her little finger – twice the size of her son's – around the boy's, giving it a firm, yet gentle shake to solidify their promise.

Noah's heart swells with an immediate rush of pride, their pact to each other lingering within their eye contact as Noah tries desperately to relay to his mother the extent of his promise, the extent of his determination to remain just as strong, just as brave as she believed him to be…

Yes, Noah Corcoran knew, just as he had known for some time now, that he was going to be the one to have to look after his family, he was going to have to be that person because, most simply, that was what men did; they looked after their families, no questions asked… Yes, Noah was going to protect his mom, he was going to protect his dad, and most importantly, he was going to protect his little sister always and forever –

No matter what it was that took for him to do so.

* * *

><p><strong>CloudGazer15<strong>** – I know, writing little Noah is absolutely addicting, I'm obsessed with it, and he definitely is an awesome big brother, so thank you!**

**Beaner008**** – Wow, I gotta say that was probably one of the most amazing reviews I've ever received, I don't even know what to say so thank you! I love little details, especially ones that seem insignificant at the time but still tug at the heartstrings so I try to throw them in as much as I can, but they don't always get picked up on so thank you for noticing!**

**Stepheyy**** – Haha, oh yeah, I've definitely been there before too it's not much fun at all. Thanks for the review!**

**Marinka4**** – All I can really say for sure is that it's definitely gonna be a bumpy ride ahead for them all. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Sillystarshine**** – Thank you! I wasn't really sure if it read that way while I was writing it so I appreciate the confirmation a lot.**

**TheSecretToLifeIsMusic**** – Thank you so much! There's definitely more coming, I can promise you that much.**

**Crazy-wee-cat**** – Thank you so, so much! I love writing cute little Noah, it's kind of become addicting… We'll definitely see more of him and Rachel interacting in the present day (including sweet moments, I promise) but a lot of Noah's character development I have planned revolves around him fighting off some demons he has from his past to kind of kick that bad boy exterior that he has and dive back into the sweet side of him. But deep down he really is a big softy and it will come out, I swear!**


	8. Noah Corcoran September 2011

**So I debated splitting this chapter into two because it was starting to get a little bit long but chose against it so this one's a little bit longer than usual so I apologize for those with ADD like me who can't get through long chapters. **

**Also, I thought this was pretty cool, but somebody messaged me asking me to make this story into a fake movie trailer which I thought was pretty cool and I'm always impressed by things like this because I have absolutely zero skills in video editing so if you want to check it out, here's the link: youtube .com/watch?v=5w2YrRCkAJU Quick forewarning, it might be slightly spoiler-ing (if that's a word) but nothing that will come too much as a shock, I'm sure.**

**As always, thank you for being awesome!**

* * *

><p><strong>Noah Corcoran – <strong>_September 2011_

* * *

><p>"I guess that you should go inside before me…"<p>

Noah Corcoran turns his head towards his sister with a curiously raised eyebrow as he flips his car keys within the ignition of his old, rattling hunk of junk, silencing the air that filters around the siblings.

The first time that Noah Corcoran ever realized that he and his little sister possessed two extraordinarily different rankings in the social ladder that is the public school system, it was Rachel's first day of middle school; entering fifth grade besides his eighth…

He had been leaving the school locker room following an early football practice in an effort to meet p with Sheryl, his girl friend at the time, the star Junior Cheerio who was one year his senior and virtually guaranteed his smooth sailing into the world of the popular.

He'd been walking arm-in-arm with her alongside several of his fellow teammates as they scouted the hallways, Slushees in hand in an effort to carry on the tradition of physically assaulting the newcomers of Chester A. Arthur Middle School – particularly those of a lower social ranking – with a waterfall of flavorful ice chips.

_"Don't worry, Rach,"_ He had assured his concerned sister late on the previous evening, _"I won't let anybody get you, I promise."_

She had been the first one to be hit… three simultaneous Slushees to the face thrown by a group of goons from the hockey team. It was hours before he'd saw her again, crying in the hidden basement bathroom still trying to get the crusted remnants of grape Slushee out of her hair as she'd screamed at him for breaking his promise…

"What are you talking about?" He asks her as she averts her eyes…

"I'm saying that I'll just sneak in through the back choir room," Rachel explains, nodding her head towards the far entrance as students clamored by the hundreds through the senior parking lot and towards the main doors. "You wouldn't want big, bad jock Noah Corcoran being seen with a loser like me."

Rachel hangs her head, staring down at her nervously fidgeting feet, but Noah can't help but to laugh; a brief chortle that emits through an eye roll.

"First of all," Noah informs her, marking the first of his conditions off against the index finger of his right hand. "How many times do I have to tell you that in school, the name's not Noah; it's Puck."

"I'm not calling you Puck," Rachel challenges, raising her eyes to meet him once more, the ghost of a smirk of appreciation towards her brother flashing across her features. "That's a stupid nickname. Besides, there is nothing that even remotely resembles the word Puck in any part of your name."

"That's not the point," Noah begins but immediately recognizes the dead argument for what it was; he'd been trying to get Rachel to call him Puck when she was around his friends for years. "Okay, okay fine, we'll compromise; second term."

He waves off his sister, ticking his second condition off on his fingers as Rachel eyes him carefully in preparation.

"I know that it's been a few years since we've been in school together, but here's a fun fact about William McKinley High School; nobody with the last name Corcoran could ever be considered a loser."

"Alright," Rachel sighs heavily, but she doesn't sound convincing as she eyes her brother with disbelief; clearly he hadn't been paying much attention to her social standings in the past years, "Anything else?"

"Third," Noah emphasizes, jutting his extended index, middle and ring fingers out into Rachel's face. "Come on… I'll walk you inside."

She smiles gently; the flash of appreciation lingering against the corner of her lips in a manner that he returns generously as he reaches into the backseat, briefly digging for his backpack before he steps out of the car, indicating for Rachel to follow.

"You've got a lot to learn kid," Noah jokes, walking around his car where he meets his sister in the middle and places a protective arm across the back of her shoulder, guiding her towards the main entrance. "Now, I know that this is your first day at William McKinley and all, but just stick with me; you'll be just fine."

He leads her inside of the bustling entranceway, unable to help but to notice as her muscles tense stiffly beneath his arms… Rachel had always been anxious about brand new social situations; the polar opposite of himself. Noah, well Noah enjoyed throwing himself into the mix, had learned to reap from them while Rachel… well, Rachel just tended to avoid them.

"Yo Corcoran," Noah hears his name almost immediately as it travels down the length of the hallway, originating within the senior lounge; a tiny corner at the edge of the lobby that social rules had strictly enacted as a hangout for the varsity football players and their Cheerio girlfriends only…

"Wanna come hang?" He turns towards his sister as she pulls herself away from him and shakes her head through a smile.

"No, but thanks Noah… I mean _Puck_," She corrects herself although Noah can tell that it's forced. "My locker's upstairs, besides I wanna go find Kurt."

"Okay, I'll catch up with you later… oh, and Rach!" He calls back to her just as she begins to walk down the length of the hall so that she pauses quickly, turning back around in order to face him. "If anyone messes with you, just let me know about it… I'll make sure that it doesn't happen again."

"Cool it, Hot Rod," Rachel laughs, although she looks appreciative. "I'll be okay."

"Yeah," Noah nods her off, mumbling under his breath, the non-convincing response that is far too low for Rachel to have actually heard it as she disappears amidst the crowd down the length of the hallway.

With one last, fleeting look over his shoulder, Noah finally turns towards his beckoning group of friends, spotting his best friend of over a decade, Finn Hudson, sitting front and center as his Cheerio girlfriend, Quinn Fabray, giggles stupidly from her position within his lap.

"Yo Puck," Noah advances towards the lumbering teen that might as well have been his brother as the boy excuses himself from being used as Quinn Fabray's personal armchair so that he could meet his friend half way, extending his hand outward in a manner that Noah immediately reciprocates, their palms connecting, lingering as Puck pulls him into a quick, one-armed hug.

"Hey Stephenson," Finn pulls himself away from Puck, waving towards the young sophomore seated besides Quinn, relishing on his first day being welcomed into the varsity Titan football squad, and by default, the lounge. "Move the hell over, make room for the kid that's gonna take us all the way back to State's this year."

A roar of approval erupts amidst the small crowd as they respond to Finn's announcement, Noah waving off the cheering football players and Cheerio's modestly as he moves towards the seat his young teammate had just vacated.

Finn and Noah had been playing football together since they were in the peewee leagues, the only exception being his freshman year when he had found himself temporarily expelled from the Titan school district… Shelby had signed him up under Carole Hudson's urging the summer after Noah's seventh birthday, the summer following Rachel's diagnosis and his father's death… He could only guess that she'd figured that it would help to keep his mind off of things, to channel his overwhelming anger, his rage into athletics.

It had worked, he couldn't help but guess; after all, Noah had found himself to have had a natural affinity for football almost immediately, quickly becoming the star running back that currently held the record for most rushing yards of any Ohio high school football player, the running back that had made All State the past two years in a row…

The William McKinley Titans' victory at state championships last year largely based on his efforts had practically guaranteed him a scholarship offer to a division one college and Noah knew, despite his mother's constant denial of their financial burden, that a scholarship would most likely be his only opportunity to ever be able to afford college…

"Finny…" Noah looks from Finn, chatting away animatedly with his fellow co-captain Mike Chang towards the drawling whine of Quinn Fabray beside him, the young blonde's lip pouting outward dramatically as she playfully flirts with the boyfriend that is currently ignoring her.

Noah can't help but to roll his eyes towards the girl; Quinn certainly was capitalizing on her first day at William McKinley quickly… She was in Rachel's grade, a mere freshman although, unlike Rachel, she had already established herself within their high social rankings long before now…

Quinn has been the star Cheerio in Lima since she was in elementary school; Noah could remember her on the sidelines of his games from as far back as when she was no more than six or seven years old, already ahead of his own grade's dancing squad, three years older.

Noah had never been particularly fond of Quinn… Sure, he'd hooked up with her a couple of times at a few parties before Finn had started dating her early last year, and yes, there was that one time that it had happened _after_ Finn had started dating her last year, but they were both drunk nearly every time that it happened, and besides Finn would never find out… He could never find out.

"Move and you're dead…"

Noah freezes instinctively as the familiar voice whispers seductively into his ear, a set of hands simultaneously covering over his eyes from behind…

"Wow, somebody's jumpy today," The voice comments on his stiffening muscles beneath her hands, "Looks like I'm going to have to punish you."

Noah smirks slyly beneath his makeshift mask, his lips tipping upwards as his girlfriend's words sift softly through his ears…

"Is that a threat?" Noah asks, ducking outwards from underneath Santana Lopez's hands, turning to face her as she hovers above him with a mischievous glint glowing inside of her eyes, "Or a promise?"

"I'll let you decide that one for yourself." She tells him, wrapping her long fingers beneath Noah's chin so that she can lift his face upwards and into hers, their lips meeting into a passionate, extended kiss that has the entirety of the school goggling in jealousy and admiration.

Noah wasn't sure how he had gotten so lucky, bagging Santana Lopez, but during his sophomore year of high school, he had somehow managed to attract the attention of the girl notorious amidst his grade for being the sexiest, baddest girl in the school… She was the naturally feisty, proud badass from the downtrodden neighborhoods of Lima Heights and him, the delinquent newly returning to William McKinley following his spending the entirety of his freshman year inside of a correctional education center…

The couple it seemed was a match made in heaven.

"Did you hear?" Santana speaks into his lips, curling her fingers through his perfectly coifed mohawk. "Adam Rothschild is having a huge blowout Friday night; his parents are going to New York for the weekend, it's going to be the first party of the school year…"

"Yeah, I heard," Noah smirks, having too received the mass text that Adam had sent out earlier that morning…

"I'm sure that he will be expecting William McKinley's hottest couple to make an appearance." Santana tells him, pulling herself downwards and into Noah's lap.

"I guess that we can show our faces," Noah tells her through a casual shrug, "But I was thinking more along the lines of having a little party of our own…" He swings his girlfriend down against his knee, tilting her Clark Gable style so that she shrieks with delight as Noah leans downwards to connect their lips once more.

"Look it's Corcoran's sister…" The mention of Rachel's name gives Noah's heart a quick jumpstart, jolting him so sharply that he almost drops Santana to the floor, ignoring her groan of disapproval as his eyes scan across the halls in search of Rachel…

He knows all too well that his friends have a tendency to clash with his sister in a manner that would ensure Rachel being in tears all night in her bedroom.

He spots the girl standing before the bulletin board, carefully signing her name on the blank sheet of paper beneath a large banner reading _Glee Club Signups_… Noah can't help but to groan inwardly; he couldn't for the life of him, understand why Rachel chose to do things like this to herself, subsequently making both of their high school careers more difficult than they already had to be…

"Hey Puck, how'd the two of you come from the same parents?" He didn't know why he was so bothered by these kinds of things… He just felt bad, he guessed, that while his and Rachel's genes had left him with the athletic prowess associated with instant popularity, she was left relishing on a talent that the reputation of the glee club restricted the rest of the school from actually seeing… He could never forget the first time that he'd heard Rachel sing – truly sing – he remembered his heart swelling with the realization; not a single doubt in his mind when he told himself that one day, this was going to happen for this kid…

Sometimes he couldn't help but to be a little bit jealous of his sister… He was jealous of her when they were kids, when Rachel was being swarmed with constant attention, being told how strong she was… Noah could remember being seven years old almost wishing that he too, had been afflicted with the disease that had nearly overtaken his sister just so that he could get the attention that she did…

He'd been forced to make his own reputation around this town, so that while Rachel was known as that sick kid, he'd separated himself from the stigma of being the _sibling_ of that sick kid…

Nobody around here knew that Rachel had been so sick as a kid apart from him and Finn, nobody remembered

And sometimes, that felt even worse than the alternative.

"Shut the fuck up Stephenson!" Noah shoots harshly upwards towards the sophomore, who clearly did not yet understand what happened to people who made a crack at Rachel in front of him. "Don't talk about my fucking sister like that!"

"Jesus, chill dude…" They had been teammates for less than a day but already, Noah wanted to kill Chris Stephenson; he didn't like this kid, he didn't like him one bit…

Noah glares warningly at the boy, his mouth emitting an animal like growl that truly exhibited his natural primitive instincts as his fingers clench automatically into fists.

"You better watch yourself, Stephenson," Finn recognizes the threat, knowing his best friend all too wall to not interfere. "If you still wanna be intact to actually play this season, you'll lay off…"

"Whatever," The sophomore rolls his eyes, standing upwards as he slings his backpack across his right shoulder as the warning bell rings shrilly overhead.

"I gotta go too," Noah sighs, lifting Santana up alongside him as he feels his anger slowly beginning to diminish; Finn effectively calming him in a manner that only his friend had ever truly mastered. "I've got algebra first… again." He sighs in his expressed weakness towards the subject of math, or, more specifically, all subjects for that matter… Academics had never exactly been Noah Corcoran's strong suite; never.

"I have a better idea." Santana laces her arm inside of his own, clutching onto him tightly as she uses her natural sway to convince him that there were things much more important that he could be doing with his time rather than going to math class… "How about we go out into the parking lot, go inside of your car… and I'll teach you a little bit of my own math…"

Her voice hangs above him low, raspy, sung through his ears in a manner that she knew drove him absolutely crazy, made it completely impossible for him to resist…

"I like that idea."

* * *

><p>Noah Corcoran had spent the entirety of his first day of senior year valiantly trying to create his own world record; most classes skipped on day one… And having effectively skipped three of his four morning classes, as well as his first afternoon class of the day, he was well on his way to success…<p>

He had attended gym; Coach Tanaka having had rigged it so that all of the football players had the class at the same time, leaving him to figure that considering actually attending gym was virtually equivalent to skipping all together; he might as well… Yes, he had attended gym, solidifying the idea that for Noah Corcoran, as well as for his exasperated teachers, it was going to be a long year… again.

He's walking through the abandoned hallways of his high school practically for the first time all day following his self-extending of his lunch break by an hour when he spots Rachel shoving notebooks aggressively into her backpack, rushing, unlike himself, to catch the last few minutes of class.

"Hey," He approaches her, leaning casually against the locker adjacent to her own, but she doesn't look up at him, doesn't pause as she continues to dig through her pristinely organized locker.

"Taking an extra long lunch break today, I see." She scolds him in much the same manner as he knows his mother would have except of course, had Shelby actually caught him skipping class, he was certain that there would have been much more yelling involved…

"Yeah," He shrugs, clearly not feeling nearly as strongly about his breaking of school rules as his sister is, "So what?"

"I'm just saying, you would think that actually going to class would be more important than making out with Santana Lopez in your car." She rolls her eyes, mimicking the impersonation of a gag at the mere thought.

"Crap…" Noah's heart freezes with the idea that he had been caught rounding first base with his girlfriend by his little sister. "You saw me?"

"Yeah… but you're lucky mom missed it," Rachel sighs, shaking her head, "I distracted her before she could notice… You owe me one big time."

"Yeah, you've got that right…" Noah sighs in his relief towards the fact that his exposure didn't go nearly as badly as it possibly could have before he jogs to catch up with Rachel as she turns to make her way down the length of the hallway… "Hey, wait!" He calls out to her, the reminder of why his mother had been dropping Rachel back off at school in the first place sifting curiously through his mind. "How'd your doctor's appointment go?"

"Fine…" Rachel sighs in her frustratingly vague answer, her feet carrying her in double time as the bell rings overhead and students begin rushing in waves back into the hallway.

"Well what did the quack say?" He rushes to catch up with her, his voice elevating to rise over the sounds of the crowd.

"Nothing," Rachel insists, stopping in her motions so that she can turn back to face her brother, emphasizing her insistencies. "I'm fine, just like I've been telling you and mom all along."

"We're just worried about you, Rach…" He insists, his face skewing with proof of concern. "We're worried about you and your liver…"

"My kidney's Noah," She corrects him quickly. "Which are fine, really, there's nothing to worry about, I promise, unless of course you want to worry about the fact that I am now blinded after what I saw in the parking lot before…"

"I told you that I'd make it up to you!" He insists, exasperated towards the idea that he was going to be hearing about this incident from his sister for a very, very long time.

"Whatever… Just remind me to never get inside of your car ever again and we'll call it even, okay?" Rachel rolls her eyes before she turns away from her brother. "I've gotta get to class… you know, for the few of us that actually _go_, I'll see you after school."

Rachel turns away from Noah who is left smirking at the characteristic cheek of his younger sister, watching the girl briefly as she takes one step, two steps down the hall before she is stopped once more by a sickening splash, exemplified by an overwhelming array of colorful, frozen ice chips…

For a second, the entirety of the high school is frozen; watching onwards as Rachel's muscles tense naturally in response to being doused in the frozen drink and humiliated in front of her peers… Her mouth hangs open in her shock, the cherry beverage dripping in clumps from her hair and face…

The physical laughter begins slowly; a low cackle that rapidly increases into a maniacal roar as the students form a perfect circle around Rachel's reddening form, pointing and laughing in a manner that leaves her unable to do much more than to sit there and wait for it to be over.

Noah is clamoring the brief distance between him and his sister so quickly, that the Slushee is barely able to settle in… He's fuming through the thick crowds, throwing elbows in every which direction in a manner that challenges absolutely anybody who dares get in his way.

He spots David Karofsky immediately, grinning stupidly against his locker surrounded by his fellow goons, the evidence of his guilt clear in the empty Slushee cup dripping with the remnants of the beverage whose majority now covers his sister clutched between his hands.

He doesn't say a word; he's so angry that he can't seem to so much as formulate a proper sentence as he grabs Karofsky by the collar of his t-shirt and throws him against the lockers so harshly, that the large boy's body leaves a dent that impossibly jams some poor freshman's locker.

"What the fu-" Karofsky begins, but Noah doesn't give him the opportunity to finish before he silences the boy with a fist.

The punch temporarily stuns the large football player as he recoils in shock for but a half second before he's eyeing Noah with a glint of rage, reciprocating his actions by throwing a punch of his own that catches Noah directly against the eye socket.

"Noah!" He can hear his sister's shrieking voice calling from somewhere behind him, she sounds horrified of his actions, begging him to stop, but the second he catches a glimpse of her, still dripping with the remnants of the frozen Slushee, his mind shuts off to reason, and he lunges at David Karofsky, tackling the boy around the waist where he drives him to the ground, pinning him to the ground easily before throwing a series of punches downwards upon the defenseless boy's head and chest.

"Noah, stop it!" Rachel is grabbing onto his shoulders, trying desperately to pull him away, but she was small, she has always been so damn small; her interference was barely a hindrance other than the fact that he now had to strategically maneuver his punches to avoid nailing his sister, lingering dangerously behind him, in the process.

Karofsky is curled into a ball before him, his face bruised and bloody as the precious liquid seeps from his busted nose and lip and he attempts desperately to lift his arms to cover his head and protect himself.

He's just preparing to lay yet another devastating blow against the boy's body when a pair of exponentially stronger arms begins to pull at him, actually offering a measure of resistance, unlike his sister had, that pulls Noah up and off of Karofsky.

Noah struggles in earnest against his restraints, thrashing against the muscular arms as the crowd around them swelters and parts like the Red Sea in an effort to keep away from the clearly enraged wrath of Noah Corcoran.

"Puck, chill man," He recognizes Finn's voice and automatically forces himself to calm down, his breathing slowing as the adrenaline begins to fade from his bloodstream so that he's suddenly aware that he's bleeding from a painful cut along the underside of his right eye where Karofsky had nicked him.

"Break it up people, break it up!" Noah recognizes the unmistakable sound of Sue Sylvester's voice so that in an instant, he's aware of just how much trouble he's in. "What are you all standing around for, get to class!"

"Come on, man," With his arms still wrapped tightly across Noah's upper body, he pulls him around the corner and out of the sight of a vengeful Sue Sylvester… for now at least.

"Karofsky, get your bleeding pulp of a face off of my floor, I just had it waxed!" Coach Sylvester's voice is drowned by distance as well as the moans of the crowd as they begin to trudge along to class. "And when you're done doing that, you can get your behind to Figgins' office, and then maybe some karate classes, because that exhibit of sparing was just plain embarrassing!"

She's angry… well, that wasn't an accurate description, she was always angry, but today, she's angry and that anger is focused on him, and Noah has been on the wrong end of Sue Sylvester's wrath more than enough times to know that he should be at least, a little bit afraid…

"You shouldn't have done that, Noah…" Coach Sylvester's angry drawl fades into the disappointed ring of his younger sister. "I know that Karofsky is a jerk, but still, you shouldn't have hit him."

"I'll hit anybody that throws a Slushee in my sister's face!" He shoots back, his defenses still so elevated that he can't help but to get uncharacteristically snippy with Rachel.

"And that's all very noble and chivalrous of you, Noah," She speaks calmly, knowing exactly how it is that her brother's tempter tends to get the better of him, and also, exactly how it is to control it. "But still, you shouldn't have hit him."

Noah remains uncharacteristically silent; he has nothing to say, he knows that there is nothing that he could say… Of course what he had done had been wrong, anybody with half a brain could have understood that, but there-in-lay the issue; when Noah got angry, he didn't possess half a brain, he didn't, it seemed, possess any kind of a brain at all.

"And thank you Finn, by the way," His sister turns from him and onto his best friend, flashing him a quick smile that he returns instantaneously, their eyes lingering against one another's longer than what Noah knows is average, and all at once, he feels his blood boiling over all over again, left residual from before… His jaw drops open, and he is just about to warn Finn to back off, to get the hell away from his sister when he hears his name being called…

"There you are, Corcoran," Sue Sylvester is stomping down the hallway towards them and she does not look pleased…

"That's my cue," Rachel mutters quietly as the coach advances closer and closer. "I'm gonna go clean up… good luck." She offers to Finn and Noah, the best that she can give before ducking quietly out of sight where she disappears into the girl's bathroom, avoiding having to come face-to-face with an enraged Sue Sylvester just in the nick of time.

"A little bird told me that you are the one responsible for turning David Karofsky's face into chopped meat, _Puck_," Coach Sylvester spits, harassing Noah in a manner that he is just not in the mood to deal with today. "And although I must admit that it is an improvement, it is also illegal, so haul your ass to Figgins' office before I drag you there myself… you too, Hudson!"

With a sigh and an exaggerated groan of frustration towards the idea that he is once more getting himself into trouble for the actions of his best friend, Finn's shoulders hang as he begins to follow Sue down the length of the hallway and towards the principal's office… But Noah doesn't move, he can't seem to bring himself to move; his mind is blank and he can't, it seems, think of anything else to do other than stand still.

"What's the matter, Corcoran?" Sue notices his profound absence and pauses, turning to face him once more. "Did you have so much fun spending your freshman year of high school at LHSCE that you want to spend your senior year there now too… You know, I don't think that they offer football scholarships out of a _correctional_ high school, did you know."

Noah bears his teeth, watching as Sue laughs openly at him, knowing that there was absolutely nothing that he could possibly do about it… But she did have a point, Noah knew that, no college was going to be willing to offer a full ride to a discipline case, and for the first time since that fateful day that he'd been sent to LHSCE in the first place, Noah Corcoran felt absolutely hopeless…

* * *

><p><em>His legs are finally long enough to reach the ground from his position in the hard plastic chairs lined up outside of the principal's office of his middle school… That was the first thing that thirteen year old Noah Corcoran notices as he takes the familiar seat, hands folded nervously inside of his lap as he listens to the animated conversation erupting from beyond the closed office door between his mother and Principal Russell. <em>

_ "With all due respect, Mrs. Corcoran, your son has been acting out since he was in elementary school." The principal sounds calm, but at the same time, overwhelmingly exasperated. "In the past four years alone, he has been suspended more than ten times for bullying and for fighting, but I'm afraid that setting the school's dumpster on fire is the last straw… We simply do not have the resources at this school to support your son's lifestyle anymore."_

_ "And what is that supposed to mean exactly?" Noah can practically see his mother's face through her voice; he knows that as she speaks, her jaw is set, she's eyeing the principal with that intimating stare that he knows so well…_

_ "Listen, Mrs. Corcoran, I understand that your son has been through a lot over the years, but he has become a hazard not only to himself, but to the other students and faculty as well…" He pauses dramatically, sighing so heavily that Noah can hear the motion through the wall. "And I'm sorry, but until we can be certain that Noah no longer poses a threat, I'm afraid that we cannot welcome him back into the Lima School System."_

_ "You're expelling him?" Shelby's voice raises dramatically, the harsh scratching of her chair against the tile floor telling Noah that she had just thrown herself dramatically onto her feet. "What kind of school system is this that you people simply give up on kids without even trying?"_

_ "Mrs. Corcoran, I assure you that we are not giving up on Noah." The principal explains calmly. "We're simply asking you to consider a place where he can have a more enhanced learning experience for someone of his nature…"_

_ "I'm sorry, but I'm not following you…" Shelby's voice falters, clearly, this man has caught her off guard; exemplified by the dramatic pause extending lengthily between Shelby's question and the Principal Russell's answer._

"_Have you ever heard of the Lima High School of Correctional Education?"_

* * *

><p>Noah had spent the final months of eighth grade as well as the entirety of his freshman year at LHSCE in Lima Heights… And being the terrible excuse for a school, he'd spent less time actually learning anything and more time forcing his guard to be constantly elevated against the school, and the people who inhabited it… It was only a matter of time, naturally speaking, before he had found himself overrun by the absolute worse of himself.<p>

"Come on, man," Finn sighs, pulling Noah back into reality with a sharp tug against his arm, "Let's go before Sylvester goes even more ape shit on us…"

Finn pulls away from his friend, making the move to follow Coach Sylvester towards her office, stopping abruptly only upon noticing that Puck is not actually following…

"Dude," He calls, his face contorting into a look of pure confusion towards the dream state that Noah had seemingly fallen into, "Come on."

"What the hell were you thinking, looking at Rachel like that?" Noah grimaces, knowing full well that the brief expression of gratitude that Rachel had enacted upon his friend was probably nothing, that had his anger level not been previously raised so high, he probably would have turned his head on the situation and never looked back once… but it was, so he didn't.

"What are you talking about?" Finn asks, arching his eyebrow, looking genuinely confused by the accusation.

"I mean I know that look Hudson," He marches dangerously up towards Finn, shoving him harshly by the shoulders so that the lumbering teen bounces harshly against the lockers adjacent to them. "I know how you are!"

"What the fuck, Noah…" Finn starts, but Noah is already half way down the length of the hall, marching opposite of the direction that Coach Sylvester had just disappeared from, knowing full well that he wasn't about to go to Figgins' office, he wasn't about to go anywhere, except home…

"You're crazy, Corcoran!" Noah can hear Finn calling after him, but he ignores it, he ignores him. "Did you know that? You're fucking crazy, man!"

"Whatever," Noah shoots back uninterested, finally turning the corner, completely out of sight, marching straight for his car, never looking back once.

* * *

><p>"Fuck!"<p>

Noah is plucking aimlessly at his guitar when the D string abruptly snaps beneath his fingers, slapping harshly at his skin in a manner that has him recoiling with the sting…

It's been hours since he had stormed angrily from his high school, and he was still too angry to so much as control his hands in order to play his guitar… Now the only thing that it seemed could ever truly calm him down, he didn't even have anymore – how typical.

"Noah, language," He can hear his mother's scolding voice and curses himself for not having paid enough attention to recognize the characteristic clicking of her heels before he'd chosen to shout such an exploitative, "Can we please go one night without speaking like Neanderthals in this house, please?"

Her head pops into his bedroom door, opened a mere crack, her eyes bearing into him in an effort to exemplify her previous scolding warningly.

"Sorry, ma," He sighs, but his voice is not sincere, he just doesn't seem to have it inside of him tonight.

"Dinner's ready," She ignores his apology and makes the announcement that she had come upstairs to relay to him in the first place.

"I'm not really very hungry…" Noah sighs, avoiding all eye contact as he plucks at those strings on his guitar that are actually still intact.

"This doesn't happen to have anything to do with the phone call that I received from Principal Figgins today does it?" Noah's muscles stiffen, his guitar practically falling from his hands as they grow slick with sweat instantaneously… His mother was definitely not supposed to find out about this.

"You heard…" Noah grimaces, mentally preparing himself for the verbal berating that he knows he is about to receive.

"Of course I heard, Noah, I'm your mother, I hear everything." With a heavy sigh, she makes her way inside of his room, not bothering to wait for an invitation as she walks towards her son's bed and sits down against its edge. "One day you will learn that there is absolutely nothing that you can get away with when it comes to me… So, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I thought that you already got the phone call…" Noah tries to use his sarcastic wit against his mother, but he knows that he should have already known from the beginning that it never would have worked… in fact, it was only bound to make the situation even worse than it already was.

"Don't get cheeky with me Noah I wasn't the one that got suspended from school for fighting today." Her tone drops dramatically. "I want the entire story, not the Spark Notes version that I got from Figgins before so spill, you were fighting with David Karofsky for throwing a Slushee on Rachel, then what happened?"

His mother's voice slowly faded, his blunt refusal to pick up the slack making it so that the silence cut between them thick as butter.

"Noah, you've been fighting with that boy since you two were in elementary school." Shelby sighs, picking up the slack that Noah had left her with. "Can't you just get over whatever it is that the two of you have with each other?"

"I'll get over it when he stops ragging on Rachel!" Shelby's comment seems to have ignited a fire beneath her son so that all at once, he finds himself raged over the entire situation all over again, shooting up to his feet so that his impossibly tall frame makes his mother seem miniscule.

"Do you remember what I said to you the very first day that I was ever called into your school because you were fighting with David Karofsky?"Shelby's voice doesn't falter, doesn't so much as hesitate as she asks her son to explore the innermost depths of the bizarre relationship that her son has developed with David Karofsky over the years.

He nods slowly… of course he remembers what his mother had told him, he remembered everything that she told him… But still, the context no longer applied; there was a difference between getting into a fist fight when you were seven, and getting into one when you were eighteen…

"I can't exactly run off to tell a grownup that David Karofsky was being mean to me and my little sister anymore, mom…" He expresses his doubts towards his mother.

"I know that," Shelby nods patiently, "You're not a little kid anymore Noah, but that's all the more reason that you should be finding alternative methods to deal with your problems other than fighting… There are a lot of things that you could have done today rather than hit David…"

"You don't get it mom…"

"Oh I get more than you think I do, trust me." Shelby tells him with an all-knowing glint behind her eyes; but Noah looks un-amused, he isn't taking her bait, instead, he remains strangely silent so that in an instant, Shelby finds herself growing suspicious all over again. "Take right now for instance, you've got that look in your eyes, kid, there's more to this story than you're letting on… so spill."

"I kind of got in a fight with Finn today too…" Noah admits, seeing no other option other than to tell his mother the truth.

"Okay…" Shelby speaks absentmindedly, taking a deep breath to collect herself as her son dog piles even more information atop her heavy shoulders "So on top of spending your first day at school committing to making a record for most classes cut, it's starting to look like you also made the record for most fights engaged in on the first day…"

Shelby pauses as the latest information sinks, trying to catch her son's glance with wide eyes although Noah has suddenly become determined to avoid her.

"Noah, you have been fighting with David Karofsky for years, but you and Finn have been best friends for practically your entire lives… Trust me, whatever you two are fighting over, it's something stupid, not something that is worth losing your best friend over… Am I right?"

"You're always right…" Noah smirks in his effort to gain some much needed brownie points with his mother.

"I know," She nods in her agreement, seemingly obvious, "So I'm willing to make a deal with you; you are grounded for all of that crap that you pulled in school today, no negotiations; two weeks with no X-box, no car, and no computer. You go to school, you go to work and then you come straight back home… But, I'm willing to start these terms tomorrow if you drive your butt over to Finn's house right now to make up with him."

"Okay…" Noah sighs dramatically; he saw that one coming, that was for sure, but he couldn't help but to find himself foolishly naïve towards the hope that he might be able to actually get away without a grounding; he should have known better, "Thanks mom."

"I think that that is probably the first time that a kid has ever thanked his mom for grounding him…" Shelby arches her eyebrows, clearly suspicious towards her son for such a reaction as she stands from his bed.

"I'll probably be changing my tune tomorrow." He shrugs in the sad truth of it al.

"Oh you definitely will be, buddy," Shelby assures him, dishing out a dose of fake sympathy accompanied by a soft pat against his thick shoulder. "Now go, quick before I change my mind."

Noah nods quickly, knowing full well not to test his mother as he rushes for the door, nearly free behind it when, as promised, his mother's voice calls him back.

"Hey, Noah,"

"Yeah mom," He pauses, turning back towards the woman.

"I love you the most." Noah smirks gently, his eyes softening immediately into a warm smile and a quick nod that has his heart settling for the first time all day.

"Love you the most."

* * *

><p>If there was one thing that people needed to know about the Hudson's, it was that never once in the more than ten years that Noah had known the family, had they ever kept their front door locked, and today was absolutely no exception.<p>

He had yelled at Carole for it more than once, joked that considering Carole's only attack dog was Finn - and Finn was more of a chiwawa than he was a pitbull – she had no line of defense against burglars… But Carole just laughed him off, although he was being slightly serious, assuring the boy that she would be just fine.

He took it as a mark of his closeness with the Hudson's however, that he was one of the few comfortable enough to simply walk inside of their home, and today, when he did, it was to find Carole sitting on the sofa watching television, pausing in her ministrations to stand and greet Noah in an enormous bear hug that made it seem as if she hadn't seen him in years, although it has barely been twenty four hours…

"Noah, I'm surprised that your mother let you out of the house," Carole smirked at him, that same glint in her eye that his own mother had given him mere minutes ago. "Are you here to pick up Finn for your latest fight club meeting?"

"Uh…" Noah stalls uncomfortably, shoving his hands inside of his pockets. "Actually, I was just wondering if I could talk to Finn real quick."

"Of course," She waves him off, "He's upstairs withering away in front of his videogames."

"Thanks Mrs. H…" Noah nods gently, looking hesitantly up towards the ceiling; Finn's upstairs bedroom directly above his head…

He moves slowly, a series of carefully orchestrated steps as he takes one step at a time, clasping nervously onto the railing as he goes, his palm slickening with a thin layer of sweat so that he automatically hates himself even more for being so afraid about simply talking to his friend…

Finn's door is wide open, the boy seated on his bed, lurched forwards with his elbows casually resting against his knees as he presses lazily at the buttons of his X-Box controller, sighing lazily with disinterest as his character is vaporized by a gunshot between the eyes…

Noah seizes his opportunity, rapping gently at the doorframe as he automatically allows himself two or three paces into the room… "Hey," He sighs awkwardly, Finn's head shooting up in response to the additional presence, only to fall immediately with realization…

Finn doesn't respond to Noah's greeting, instead, he merely stares, leaving Noah unable to do much but to avoid his best friend's eyes, his cheeks glowing red in embarrassment… Of course, Finn's response was warranted; it wasn't exactly a secret that he'd messed up today, and that he'd messed up hard.

"Listen Finn…" Noah starts slowly, not truly certain what it was exactly that he should be saying, merely speaking the words as they popped into his head. "I just wanted to come over here to apologize for freaking out on you before… I was a dick and you were just trying to help out so… I'm sorry."

Still, Finn said nothing; hell, the boy wouldn't even look at him… Noah sighs desperately, he was starting to get desperate, it's barely been more than a few hours since him and his best friend spoke, and he already missed him…

"Listen man, I was an asshole, okay… I was still heated up about all of that shit that happened with Karofsky and you know me, you know how I say stupid shit that I don't mean…" He was pleading with Finn, Noah could hear the tone of desperation inside of his voice, and he was more than certain that even Finn was able to pick up on it too. "It's just… it's just that when it comes to Rachel… I guess I just get a little bit overprotective is all, you know, after all of the shit that the two of us have been through together, I can't really help it…"

Finally, his words elicit a response from Finn; a short grunt that Noah registers as a laugh that Finn is desperately trying to hold in… He doesn't know whether he should be offended, or pleased.

"Really, you get protective of Rachel?" He smirks up at Noah and the boy can practically see the sarcasm dripping off of his every word. "I haven't noticed."

"Yeah…" Noah concedes, placing his hands into his jeans pockets, hunching his shoulders as he risks advancing a couple more paces inside of Finn's bedroom. "I guess I can get a little bit overboard."

"A _little_ overboard," Finn reciprocates, "Dude, you thought I was checking out Rachel…"

"I know…" Noah averts his eyes, embarrassed by the situation as a whole. "But really dude, if you want to… I don't know, start something with Rachel or anything, than it's okay with me, really… But still, best friend or not, I'll still wreck you if you hurt her."

The mood is lightened as Noah emits his final, serious threat that has Finn doubled over with laughter, clutching onto his sore stomach muscles as he hunches over his bed.

"Dude, you know that you're my boy, right?" Finn asks, Noah nodding his head gently, slightly confused by Finn's unexpected reaction. "I'm not about to do anything to mess that up… Besides, no offense or anything, but I'm dating Quinn, remember?"

"Yeah," Noah nods gently, "Yeah, I guess…"

"Jesus, come here you idiot…" Finn shakes his head over towards Noah, standing to his feet so that he can throw his arms around his friend's shoulders, allowing the stiff embrace to linger briefly before he pulls away once more. "Now come help me… I can't get past level 20." He walks back towards his bed, extending his spare video game controller towards Noah, who accepts it gratefully before he throws himself down onto Finn's bed besides his friend.

"I better embrace this…" Noah smirks as he blows up a computerized zombie with a dead-on accurate rocket launcher attack. "My mom's got me on bread and water for the next two weeks starting tomorrow for beating Karofsky's ass."

"Yeah," Finn nods in his mutual agreement. "Mine does too…"

"But you know," Noah smirks, "It was worth it, wasn't it?"

* * *

><p><span>RainbowGleek<span> – Thank you! I randomly fell in love with the idea of them being siblings too after thinking I'd initially hate it, so I figured I'd take a stab at it myself. There definitely is a lot of angst ahead, keep those tissues handy :)

Stepheyy – Yeah definitely, I'd love to see it! I've been working at Children's Hospital in Boston for the past couple of years for school so I definitely know how it can be and how amazing those kids are. Thanks for the review!

Marinka4 – Haha, I know I want to hurt him too, and that's definitely not the last we'll see of Karofsky so you'll probably want to hurt him even more in the next few chapters. Thanks for reviewing!

TommyH – Thank you! I love writing little Noah, I think sometimes I get carried away with it :)

Anon – Thank you for the review! Yup, Shelby's extended family is definitely going to have a semi-important role a couple of chapters down the line, particularly her sister and her parents.

Sillystarshine – Haha, I had this image in my head of little Finn just being this adorable little kid and couldn't resist throwing him in there. Karofsky and Noah are definitely going to have some more interactions, both in the past and in the present so we'll see how that plays out. Thanks for the review!

Beaner008 – As always, thank you for your amazing review! I'm glad you picked up on how Shelby was trying to keep things as normal as possible for Noah, I was afraid I was being a bit too subtle and non-descriptive about it, so thanks!

CloudGazer15 – Agreed! I love the soft side of Puck, I think it's adorable so I figured I'd exploit it for my own personal gain :)

Crazy-Wee-Cat – Thank you! I love little Puck too and I love to write him so there will be more, I promise! I'm glad you liked how he got his nickname, I wasn't so sure about it so thanks for the feedback!


	9. Hiram Corcoran January 2001

**So I decided to throw a bit of personal insight about Hiram up in this story after debating it for a while considering I figured it wouldn't be too popular but there really is no way to avoid it seeing as it's going to end up being pretty key to everybody's character development. So I'm gonna sneak a little Hiram-based chapter in the mix every now and then but I'll try my hardest to keep it family-oriented just to keep it from being a boring filler chapter.**

**Also, I realized I basically put a story in itself in the form of author's note before every chapter, sorry about that, I'm a rambler, thanks for putting up with me!**

**Rachel's up next but forewarning, it probably won't be up for about a week or so because I am headed to Indy to go to the Super Bowl, baby! (One more week of this nonsense from me, I promise). **

* * *

><p><strong>Hiram Corcoran – <strong>_January 2001_

* * *

><p>He hadn't known the true meaning of exhaustion until now…<p>

Previously, he had believed himself to have seen it all, to have experienced the absolute worst of the worse… After all, in a previous life, he _had_ been a full time RN of a consistently bustling, county emergency room, he _had_ worked an average of seventy hours a week on a mere four day cycle, he _was_ the father of two rambunctious school-aged children that he could never seem to keep up with, hell, he had even lived the majority of his adult life in New York City, the city that never sleeps for Christ's sake…

Yes, before this past month, Hiram Corcoran had truly thought he'd known exactly what it had meant to be a self-induced insomniac…

He had barely understood the mere definition of sleep before, but now that the word had been permanently erased from his vocabulary all together, he was certain that he wouldn't be able to recognize its meaning had it jumped up and slapped him clear across the face.

These days, sleep came in but one of two forms; either he was nodding feebly into and out of consciousness at his daughter's sick bedside, or it came atop an uncomfortable, lumpy old mattress in the ER on-call room on the nights that he found himself picking up additional shifts simply to help keep his family financially sound amidst their personal crisis.

Before Rachel had gotten sick, they had all been getting along just fine; they'd had the money that they had saved diligently from Shelby's brief, albeit successful Broadway career tucked away into college funds for their children, they'd had her promotional contracts, his career, more savings bonds than they could possibly keep track of…

Now that the medical bills were accumulating faster than they could keep up with, their finances were starting to become a concern for the first time ever in this young couple's lives… His 401K was depleting fast, the kids' college funds becoming rapidly obsolete…

The only thing that Hiram could possibly do, he knew, was to work more, and between doing that and sitting with Rachel, well, he'd rarely found enough time these days to do much else except sleep… and lately, he was barely even doing that.

Their lives had suddenly revolved in a complete one-eighty… These days, they had gone from struggling to round up an endlessly energetic child to simply becoming satisfied just with keeping her alive… Hiram had spent the entirety of his career caring for people, but only now was he starting to learn that having a kid that was sick was its own full time occupation in itself…

Lately, he's considered himself lucky to accumulate eight hours of shuteye a week, forget about a night…

Tonight, there was no surprise that it fell different from the rest… Hiram was seated atop a small, pull-out cot permanently situated in the corner of Rachel's private hospital room, his arm wrapped gently around Shelby's relaxed shoulders as he held her close to him, both parents drifting gently into and out of sleep at their daughter's sick bedside.

The television before them was blaring, but through his bleary eyes, he could only bring himself to stare vaguely, struggling mentally in his attempts not to judge the TV personality before them too harshly, as the corporate manager wasted his fifteen minutes of fame complaining that his two spoiled children do nothing more than suck his investments completely dry with his constant demands; a new car, a television in every bedroom, money every weekend inevitably spent on excessive amounts of alcohol…

Hiram wondered what this man might do had, God forbid, one of said spoiled children had been stricken with a cancer diagnosis… money after all, couldn't by a healthy genetic code, couldn't replace those lost days withering away inside of a hospital room…

He wishes that his only problems in life were Noah complaining to Hiram about needing a brand new Lexus to drive to recklessly to school and back, Rachel crying over not having enough television channels on the big screen in her bedroom…

He wonders if his daughter would even live to see the day that she hoodwinks a crisp twenty dollar bill from Hiram to spend on cheap vodka between her and her friends… Compared to the alternative option, he suddenly can't wait to see the day… He can picture it already, could see himself catching his drunkenly incapacitated daughter throwing up in the bathroom as he hugged her tight with grateful valor, happier that she had made it to see this day at all than angry that it had actually happened…

But he was getting ahead of himself as he often did these days; he knew that at this point, they could only concentrate on getting Rachel to five years old before they could so much as think about fifteen…

"I'm not going to let her die, Hiram…" It's as if she can read his mind, and some days, he honestly believes that she can – this being one of those cases… His muscles tense hovering above his wife's arms; in the past week, she had become known for her randomized renditions of a stony determination to save Rachel's life by any means necessary, but she had never been quite so… blunt about it before. "I can't let her die… Rachel should be the one that buries us…

Hiram is at a complete loss for words, he had found himself entering his particular occupation for its reputation of empathy, for the ability to connect with patients, and he was good at it, _damn_ good, yet when it came down to his own family, his wife grieving for the child that they hadn't even lost yet and his daughter hanging onto threads for a life she hadn't even had the opportunity to live… well he had absolutely no idea what it was that he could do…

His eyes linger briefly upon his daughter's sleeping form; she's restless tonight, fidgeting in her sleep in a manner that tells him that it will only be a matter of time until she wakes up so hopelessly sick that she can barely move, barely breath… And despite the fact that she's snoring gently in her deep slumber, there's still tears leaking slowly from the corners of each of her eyes so that for a moment, Hiram is actually concerned that she'd heard Shelby…

Seconds later, he finally understands that you don't actually have to be awake in order to cry.

He's still eyeing her broken-heartedly when the small girl begins to cough and splutter suddenly, her fits bringing her back into a word so harsh, so painful, right on schedule…

Immediately after Rachel had begun her chemotherapy treatments, her doctor's had warned the concerned parents that eventually, the side effects would come – nausea, diarrhea, anemia, hair loss, fatigue – all of the symptoms that one might expect in response to being pumped with cytotoxic chemicals…

They had told both Hiram and Shelby that it would take a couple of days, but instead, it took less than an hour until she was throwing up, crying so hard between her bouts of vomiting that she could barely breathe, had turned blue in the face before the doctor's had been forced to treat her with oxygen therapy throughout the night…

Rachel had taken to her treatments particularly hard, and of course, each doctor that passed through had provided their own theories as to why – each individual person responds differently, some said, other's claimed that it was her small stature to blame, more, her young age…

But no matter the cause, Hiram couldn't stand to watch it any longer, no more, he was certain, than Rachel could stand to experience it.

"Momma…" Rachel calls into the darkness of the room… Rachel always called for Shelby when she wasn't feeling well, and Hiram pretends to understand, pretends that it doesn't hurt him that his daughter doesn't quite trust him as much as she does her mother – some things, a kid just needs their mother for – but still, he can't help the panging of his heart every time Rachel pushes him away for his wife, "Momma, sick…"

The young child speaks in brief fragments, but her voice doesn't wobble; after all, it's been weeks since Rachel had cried over the side-effects of her treatments, despite the fact that her parents still did…

Shelby springs from her position beneath Hiram's arms faster than the older man can so much as process his daughter's beckoning… In fact, he is still cursing gravity for his difficulty in standing when Rachel begins to vomit, steady streams of pure water - seeing as she hadn't eaten solid food in days - emitting from her mouth as Shelby holds the pink emesis basin that Rachel had since all but replaced Barbra with as her safety blanket, beneath her mouth, rubbing her back gently as she sings softly to the girl in her effort to relax her tense muscles…

"_Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around…"_

She's murmuring gently into the top of Rachel's balding head as Hiram stands fully to his feet, his bones creaking, joints aching from being cramped in the same position on that cot for so many hours straight…

"_Nothing's gonna harm you, darling, not while I'm around…"_

He feels an immediate rush of disappointment towards himself for so much as considering the idea that his insignificant bouts of pain could equate, could even come close to that by which his four year old was currently experiencing…

"_Demons will charm you with a smile for a while but in time… Nothing can harm you, not while I'm around."_

"Hiram…" Shelby's soft singing is rendered silent abruptly as she whispers up towards her husband, his head raising sharply to meet with his wife's… Her eyes are empty, tired as she strokes back what little hair that Rachel actually has left atop her head, swiping stray strands from the line of fire as Rachel regurgitates the few contents of her stomach. "Hiram can you call a nurse?" Shelby asks of him, a contribution, involuntarily emphasizing his uselessness in these situations as a whole. "She could use an extra dose of Zofran to get her through the night…"

Hiram's cheeks glow red with an embarrassment. As a nurse, he should be the one being called into these types of situations, not the one to be doing the beckoning… His credibility as a father, as a health professional as a whole is being tested with every frantic jab at the nurse cal button that he makes – yet he does it anyway, because this time, he is at a complete loss for any kind of an alternate solution…

He'd built his entire refuge around the concept of level-headedness in a hospital environment; it was sheer irony that his very site of employment had since become the place that he had learned to fear the most… He wants to scream, he wants to rip his hair straight from his head, but no matter how loud his voice could raise, how far his lung capacity could take him, he knew he still wouldn't be able to emit the words loud enough…

He is practically begging for somebody to call out his name, speak to him just so that he could prove to himself that he's actually still alive… because these days, he isn't entirely believing it…

"Mr. Corcoran?"

The voice calls to him like a godsend from the doorway although it is unfamiliar, masculine; he turns to face its source, a young kid looking to be recently out of college, sporting shaggy blonde hair and the remnants of a scruff as his scrub pants sag loosely around his waist…

His initial impression, Hiram thinks, isn't a good one, certainly not qualified to provide the lifeline for his desperately ill daughter…

"Mr. Corcoran, did you call me?" He asks for a silent permission to enter into the room, Hiram giving the boy a short nod of confirmation although he evaluates the boy's every move as he strolls forwards in his quick evaluation of the scene…

Hiram doesn't even have to say anything before the nurse cuts towards Rachel, still heaving harshly, a painful retching noise originating directly against the back of her throat rubbing painfully against her esophagus until the tissue was so impossibly raw, that it forced enormous droplets of her own blood from her mouth; large, red globules dripping from her lips so that it stained her face in a manner that, in combination with her overwhelming paleness, almost made it so that she roughly resembled a vampire.

The nurse is hanging numerous IV bags of the strongest anti-nausea medication that Rachel's body can possibly withstand high above her head, but Hiram knows that it will be several minutes until the precious liquid is able to kick in… For now, the girl is left to her own vices; literally throwing up her insides to the point that for the first time in weeks, she begins to cry…

Rachel is wailing from inside of Shelby's lap, large tears, dripping like a torrential rainfall dripping from the corners of each eye, sliding down her cheeks until the blood still emitting from her mouth is diluted pink, and sent as a collective entity into the awaiting emesis basin below.

Hiram lingers inside of the doorway; suddenly, he finds himself feeling remarkably selfish in his stellar monument to loneliness, barely scraping by in his desire to simply survive as he ducks from the hospital room, slipping into the hallway with his chest heaving painfully, tears stinging threateningly at his eyes.

He manages a handful of steadying breaths, trying desperately to ease the pain seeping through his lungs as he presses his back into the tile wall and reminds himself that he can handle this; that if he could have taken everything that life has thrown at them thus far, than he can take this too… But despite his subconscious assurances, he still finds himself walking involuntarily away from Rachel's room, drifting further and further down the length of the hallway until he turns inside of the small kitchenette at the end of the hall…

He needs a moment, he tells himself as he attempts to brew himself a cup of coffee, he needs a moment and then he can return to his duties as a husband, and as a father…

His hands are trembling so violently that he can't even seem to accomplish the seemingly mundane task of providing himself this necessary beverage… He wasn't built to sustain this kind of overwhelming pressure, he knows, as any man does, that human beings were only designed to be so strong… Natural selection would have ended him ages ago; he finds himself caving quickly…

Large, brown clumps of coffee grinds litter the counter top, his spoon proving to be an insignificant weapon against his shaking appendages… by the time he lifts the cutlery from the can to the filter, there is barely enough remnants to so much as drop into the pot…

His teeth are bared in his frustrations, Hiram has always possessed a hidden temper, a trait that he had unfortunately passed along to his son; the simplest of things, at times, hold the potential to make him impossibly angry, hopelessly terrible…

He grips the pot with a white-knuckled grasp; he's holding onto the handle so tightly that it's only seconds until he can no longer even feel his fingers anymore… He draws back his arm violently; Hiram hasn't so much as thrown a ball since he'd blown out his elbow pitching for the University of Alabama, but still, he hadn't been a potential first round draft pick before his injury for nothing, he throws the pot as hard as he possibly can against the wall where it bounces back against the tile with a booming clang that is certain to have echoed across the entirety of the hospital…

"It's a good thing that we finally decided to ditch those glass coffee pots…" Hiram's body freezes as a voice calls from the doorway just behind his back and he turns only to find the mysterious nurse that had presumably just left Rachel's side walking slowly towards him. "The amount of times people threw them, half of our budget used to go just into replacing them…"

The man picks up the discarded pot gently, toying with it briefly between his hands before resting it back to where it belongs against its heater, immediately beginning to scoop generous amounts of coffee beans into the already awaiting filter…

"I just wanted to stop by and let you know that Rachel is just fine." Hiram retains his stony silence; to him, this man's testament to his daughter's well-being is nothing more than a smack across the face, an emphasis towards the idea that he should have been there to see that for himself. "Mrs. Corcoran is with her now, I gave her some medication to help her sleep, the blood in her vomit was simply from her throat being so raw from the chemo, I left a note in her chart for Dr. McCarthy but I don't think it will be anything to be too concerned about, it's just a side effect from all of the drugs that she's on…"

"I'm a nurse too, you know," Hiram cuts the man off abruptly, "I know what chemotherapy does to your body, you don't need to rub it in my face that I'm a coward that can't even stand by his daughter's side when she's sick, okay?"

"No, Mr. Corcoran, I swear that wasn't what I was trying to do at all…" The boy speaks quickly, his eyes slanting terrified that he had given Hiram a distinctly false impression. "I just… I know that it's hard, especially being a nurse… You think that you're immune to seeing these kinds of things but when it's somebody that you love, really, it only makes things worse… I remember when my dad passed; I couldn't even be in the room…"

An uncomfortable silence befalls the duo as, simply for the sake of keeping his hands busy, the male nurse prepares Hiram's coffee for him, not even bothering to ask the man how he takes it before he's dumping generous amounts of cream and sugar into the mug…

"I'm David, by the way," He introduces himself as Hiram settles into a chair against the small round table adorning the center of the room, "I just transferred from Mercy Children's in Toledo… this is my first night here."

"Well then I'm sorry to have had to make your first night so eventful…" Hiram makes a rough attempt at humor but his voice only emits as dry, bitter…

"It's okay; I've had much worse… trust me." David sits himself directly across from the older man, smiling brightly as he pushes the coffee mug over towards Hiram who grabs at it appreciatively.

The two nurses' hands meet against the porcelain cup, fingers lingering against adjacent skin in a manner that leaves Hiram's heart pounding involuntarily beneath his ribcage as their eyes meet and hold.

* * *

><p><em>They were guaranteed lovers from opposing sides of the tracks – that's what his roommate had told him anyway, about the girl that he had seen singing just yesterday while he had been working overtime at the old Majestic Theater in Midtown that the two former classmates worked at together…<em>

_ The rumor around the theater was that she was to be performing the role of Christine in the Phantom of the Opera for the next couple of weeks; the understudy hired to replace the lead as she recovered from a nasty bout of mononucleosis._

_ His roommate had claimed that he'd known her to be the one for Hiram the second that he'd seen her, after all, Hiram had always been into those "artsy" types, ever since college…_

_ At the time, Hiram had merely grinned, shaking of his coworker's insistencies… Personally speaking, he knew that whoever this girl may be, she definitely was not this type… But there was no way for him to have known that, after all, Hiram kept the truth of his love life a defined secret, held much too close for even his closest of friends to ever possibly find out._

_ Born and raised in Mobile, Alabama the youngest child of two devoutly Christian, incredulously conservative parents, it went without saying that when Hiram had come out to them during his senior year of high school, it hadn't gone very well…_

_ He was officially disowned by his parents the summer before he was to start at the University of Alabama on a full-ride scholarship, and from there, he left, never once looking back… _

_ It was only after he was sidelined by injury and stripped of his scholarship that he had been forced to drop out of school, left with no choice but to move, where he'd ended up in New York City in an effort to get as far away from the unsympathetic Bible belt as he possibly could._

_ And despite having always been a science guy, he'd found himself working construction after his close friend, and former classmate, Ray Montgomery pulled some additional strings for him… The plan was simple; he would work for a couple of months; raise enough money to complete his nursing degree, and head back to wherever life took him. Ray had given him everything, and in return, Hiram had deemed it only fair to be nothing but honest with him, but considering the fact that his last exhibition of his closeted homosexuality hadn't gone over so well, it was only natural for him to be more than a little bit hesitant about trying again._

_ "Listen Ray, I appreciate it, really I do," Hiram had insisted, "But really, I'm not looking for any sort of a relationship right now." He chose to leave out the part that for him to ever find himself falling for a girl would take a divine miracle, carved from the hands of God himself, and even still, he wasn't sure that even that would have worked…_

_ "I'm just concerned about your well-being, my friend," Ray had shrugged him off, "I don't think that I've ever seen you bring home a girl, not once."_

_ "Yeah well, not all of us can be the hot head that you-" He'd rounded the corner of his construction sight, looking foolishly towards his roommate rather than directly in front of him as he should have been, a fact that became suddenly obvious when he had collided harshly into another body, nearly knocking the smaller framed girl over completely in the process._

_ "Oh my God, I am so sorry!" Hiram had shrieked in his embarrassment, reaching outwards automatically in an effort to steady the young woman, grabbing her subconsciously by the hips, his hands lingering absentmindedly as his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment…_

_ "No, no, it's fine really…" The woman had insisted, stepping out of Hiram's grasp so that she could dust at her dress, smoothing her palms against her perfectly manicured hip bones._

_ "Um… I don't think that we've met yet," She spoke, sticking out her hand so that Hiram had had no choice but to reciprocate the action, "I'm Shelby… Shelby Berry."_

_ "H-Hiram," The man stuttered, unsure as to why he'd felt himself suddenly so flustered by this woman's presence, why his heart was suddenly fluttering out of his chest for no apparent reason at all. He'd never felt this way in response to the opposite sex, never, and he couldn't for the live of him, decide whether he liked it or not. "Hiram Corcoran."_

_ "Well it was nice to meet you, Hiram." Shelby had smiled politely, flashing her teeth in a manner that made her body positively glow all around her. "I uh… I have to get back to rehearsal now but I'll see you later?"_

_ "Y-yeah…" Hiram finally managed to get the single word out, following the woman with his eyes as she disappeared around the corner and towards the stage entrance…_

_ "See, I told you that you were going to like her." Ray had smirked accomplished alongside a slight nudge against Hiram's shoulder. _

_ "Dude, I told you, I'm not interested." Hiram shook off his insistencies although truth be told, he was feeling a sudden burst of confusion, the briefest of interactions flipping everything that he had ever known about himself straight around on its head._

"_Yeah… and I'm a freaking millionaire."_

* * *

><p>Hiram's hand begins sweating gently beneath David's fingertips and he quickly pulls the appendage away out of fear that had he allowed to linger, the nurse would have picked up on the additional moisture or else the fluttering pulse beneath his wrist…<p>

The two wallow quietly in their silence; Hiram knows that there is little that he could say, even less that he could actually do… These days, all he could do is figure that there must be some sort of simpler explanation for all of these empty, buried feelings and spiraling emotions, but lately, he isn't quite so sure anymore…

"She'll be okay, Mr. Corcoran…" David sighs, a humbling drawl that sifts between them as their eyes fall to the table below them, lingering against the wood as if they'd reached their quota of staring at each other during their briefest of interactions and could no longer stand to meet each other's eyes… "You all will be."

"Will we really?" His pessimism is prominent in his retorts, the words emitting as a mere whisper against his lips so that he can't be positive whether or not David actually heard him although if he did, he made no indication of the fact…

Hiram sips gently at his slowly cooling coffee, trying desperately to detract his attention away from the heavy emotions currently circulating throughout the room like wildfire as the two men fall into a distant silence… He's concentrating solely on ignoring the feelings fluttering through his veins, pointing directly towards his sick daughter's nurse, but he's sweltering with this budding secret, this lie that had been planted firmly within the center of his chest for years, and only now, at the most inopportune of times, was beginning to bud.

Nobody knew, nobody could ever know, the time to abandon his cowardice has since come and gone; he had a wife, he had two beautiful children… No, it seemed that the darker the secret to be held, the harder that one must clutch onto it – nobody could find out about this; ever.

The sun sinks gently upwards from beyond the small, singular window at the far end of the tiny kitchenette; his coffee is still nestled beyond his palms, barely touched and steadily growing lukewarm before him… His mind is swirling with so many thoughts, that he can't possibly bring himself to organize them…

The only thing that he can possibly do anymore is to wonder, to pray to God that there is no sorrow, no unrest of a singular, unsettling evening that a brand new sun can't resolve throughout its upcoming morning…

So he takes a deep breath, he swallows deeply, his darkest of secrets and deepest of fears and he thanks God for this constantly recurring daylight.

* * *

><p><strong>Marinka4<strong>** – Hehe, thank you! I got some plans for the two of them interacting down the road, I think they'll end up making a good team :)**

**Sillystarshine**** – Yes, it has started! There will be a bit more coming down the line too, Finn's gonna work into this story a bit for moral support once sh*t starts to hit the fan, for lack of a better phrase. I'm also just starting to think that I keep throwing Karofsky into the mix solely so I can beat him up haha. **

**Crazy-Wee-Cat**** – Rachel definitely has a love/hate thing going on with how Noah treats her, we'll get a better glimpse of what Rachel's like now in the next chapter, there will definitely be similarities to how she is on the show but some pretty distinct differences as well. Thanks for the review!**

**CloudGazer15**** – Thank you, thank you, thank you! I feel like I don't write it enough so you get three, haha. I've become strangely addicted to writing protective Puck, there will definitely be much more down the line. **

**Beaner008**** – Thank you, thank you, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about skipping around with time so much, but I'm starting to get used to the idea. Santana's going to have a pretty big role down the line, mostly because I'm in love with her character, you probably won't like it at first but she's going to be doing a lot of growing over time. There's also gonna be a few flashbacks explaining the times that aren't actually written in the story, mostly centered around Noah's freshman year. As always, I freaking love your reviews, they make me giddy so thank you!**

**StoryBored**** – Ahh, I'm so glad, and honored! Thanks for reviewing!**


	10. Rachel Corcoran  September 2011

**Hey guys! Sorry for the delay but I have literally been on cloud nine ever since the Super Bowl and have been dancing around New York participating in festivities. So here's the deal, I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer so I split this chapter into two parts. The next one's going to have a bit more action in it and it should be up soon, but I'm going back to school up in Boston tomorrow and am thus far unsure how long it will take for me to finish basking in sweet victory and gloating :) **

**As per usual, thank you for being awesome!**

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><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran – <strong>September 2011  
><em>(Part I)<em>

* * *

><p>Rachel Corcoran was on a mission.<p>

It was the only explanation accurate enough to describe her determined motions as she strutted confidently down the length of the hallways of William McKinley High School, marching directly into territory previously uncharted – the senior hallway.

It wasn't as if Noah didn't _allow_ her to enter into his so-called domain, no, instead, Rachel's unwillingness to embark down William McKinley's east wing was more of an unwritten rule that she had enacted upon herself in the nearly one month that it had been since she'd entered high school in an effort to avoid facing blatant humiliation at the hands of her brother's peers.

But today, Rachel wanted… no, she _needed_ her brother's help, and what Rachel Corcoran wanted, she generally got.

"Noah, I need to talk to you." Rachel stomps the last handful of steps towards her brother aggressively as he lounged casually against his locker, flashing his football jersey proudly about a flock of pathetically swarming Cheerio's in preparation for tonight's opening home game.

Noah's face drops instantly in response to his sister's presence, his eyes fading into a distinct horror that fades into a deep, red flush of embarrassment towards her actions.

"Ooo, _Noah_," Quinn Fabray shrieks in her laughter in a manner that leaves Rachel unable to help but to roll her eyes, her pupils following her brother's motions as he ducks out from the center of his huddle of groupies in an effort to drag Rachel by the shoulder out of earshot in an effort to avoid any further potential embarrassment.

"What the hell, Rachel?" Noah groans, his voice swelling as it drops into a miniscule grumble so that his eavesdropping girlfriend and her fellow cronies couldn't hear them.

"Sorry, _Puck_," With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she responds to his obnoxious insistencies upon calling him the name by which half the population of Lima, Ohio truly believes to be what's written on his birth certificate. "But I really need to talk to you."

"About what?" He asks quickly, eyes darting rapidly between her and the small group of Cheerio's impatiently awaiting his return…

Most of the time, Rachel just couldn't keep up with her brother's bipolar tendencies, truly she couldn't… He could be throwing a punch looking to defend her honor one minute, and skiving her off trying to push her to the side for the next.

She never knew what to expect when it came to Noah, but it came with the territory… she guessed; after all, this was a territory that she knew absolutely nothing about – popularity.

But she couldn't have _all_ of the blame placed on herself for that factor of her life, it was after all, purely the fault of extenuating circumstances that had ensured the decade of secondary school nightmares that she had thus far endured.

In the beginning, she had found herself to be a pretty popular kid… Yeah, sure, she might have only been four years old at the time, but still, she'd managed to make friends relatively easily; she was extroverted, wildly talented and relatively easy to get along with…

Rachel's biggest downfall since day one had been her competitive nature; a trait that had all but forced Shelby and Hiram to avoid enrolling her into athletics and instead, to focus on dance and music… but even then, Rachel had always felt the need to be on top.

And then she had gotten sick…

In a heartbeat, Rachel had gone from a constant concern about the state of her macaroni pictures to simply finding herself just trying to stay alive another day, and the friends that she had made, the ones that she had been continuing to establish, they could no longer be her number one priority.

And Rachel had quickly learned, even at her young age, just how situations like that tended to work; at that age being out of the ordinary might as well have held her under the same classification as having the bubonic plague… Nobody wanted to be around her after she'd fallen ill, nobody…

Tragedies such as that one, they had a tendency to become front page news for a little while at least before they began to fizzle out into nothingness once more… Some people had stuck around, most simply faded into mere background noise, and at the beckoning of their parents – too afraid to take their child into a pediatric oncology ward for fear that leukemia was as contagious as small pox – it was weeks before all of the friends that she had made in school were gone.

She was six years old by the time that she was strong enough to so much as be tutored at home, seven before she could enter into the school system once more where Shelby had had no choice but to enroll her a year behind the rest of her classmates.

Her struggles were obvious, they had been, ever since she was a child, but Rachel had been born a fighter, they'd all known that, ever since the very beginning.

But even in those rare moments where she couldn't seem to find it in her to pull herself out of the darkness of continuing, unfortunate circumstances, her family at the very least, had always been there, and as her rock, Rachel had learned to fully rely on Noah.

And today was no different.

"I need you to join the glee club." His reaction was instantaneous, eyes shooting so wide that they practically fell straight out of his skull as his jaw dropped and muscles stiffened instinctively.

From somewhere beyond the two siblings, a sudden, shrill shriek of laughter told Rachel that in her excitement, she seemed to have forgotten to drop her voice low enough to prevent her brother's friends from hearing her…

Rachel sinks her head slightly, embarrassed for both him as well as herself; Noah's friends weren't, after all, exactly known for their being the most forgiving when it came to public humiliation.

"Are you crazy?" His voice elevates strategically, ensuring that his friends would be able to hear the displeasure behind his tone before he grabs Rachel by the shoulder and drags her even further down the hall. "You do realize that I have a reputation to uphold at this school, right?"

"Oh come on, Noah!" Rachel stomps dramatically; there was a hidden strength inside of her, an expressed ambition that made it nearly impossible for anybody to avoid her dreams once she had her mind set on them…

The single exception to this rule was her brother, his strikingly similar personality often forcing their meetings like this to clash aggressively in a manner that both Rachel, as well as Noah knew drove their mother absolutely insane.

"It's only temporary, I swear!" She continues after her brother proves unable to come up with a response, switching her tone with a flawless accuracy, from a stony defiance to a desperation that Rachel knew would be nearly impossible for Noah to resist.

"I'm not joining your glee club, Rach," He's trying to stick to his guns, but Rachel can already hear his voice softening just as she'd intended. "It will ruin me completely; do you realize how long it took for me to make it so that the geeks wouldn't even look me in the eyes anymore, to get teachers to fear me enough to not even send me to the principal?"

"Oh, because that's such a good reputation for a person to have!" Rachel shoots back, her jaw setting and inclination rising in a manner that resembles their mother so convincingly that Noah can't help but to recoil.

"That's not the point!" He waves her off, stepping away from her in an effort to walk back towards his locker; willing to go anywhere in order to move away from this conversation. "I have football Rachel. Scouts are coming to look at _me_ this year and I need to work my ass off this season… I can't have any distractions, none whatsoever… You know that mom can't afford to send me to college, this is my last chance!"

"And imagine how good it's going to look on your resume when the admissions board sees that you've managed to balance both football and glee flawlessly…" Rachel argues, "Come on Noah, it would make you a shoe-in and I know you, you're always willing to work hard… you can do both!"

Noah sighs, he has to give his sister some credit – she has always been a master of persuasion.

"Why do you need me to join glee so badly?" He asks the question that tells Rachel that she has her brother exactly where she wants him; directly inside of the palm of her hand.

"Because Noah, our Sectionals competition is next Saturday and we need twelve people to compete in order to qualify." Rachel explains patiently, the heartbreaking details that Mr. Schuester had informed them of mere days ago.

"And how many members do you have now?"

"Well… we have me, Kurt, Tina, Mercedes and Artie…" She counts off the abysmal number; managing to squeeze all of their members in on the fingers of a single hand… they don't even have half of what they need in order to qualify for competition, "So including you, we would have six."

"And how many do you need again?"

"Twelve," She informs him, "And before you make your final decision, please remember that if I can't win Sectionals, then I won't even have the opportunity to go to Nationals, forget Internationals… My resume will be stained by a devastating loss in the preliminary rounds… the preliminary rounds, Noah! I'll never get into a descent performing arts college, and then I'll never go to Broadway. I'll grow up and become nothing more than a homeless burn out living on the streets and selling my body just to get enough money for a couple of dollar crack hits a day…"

"Jesus, relax," Noah stops in the midst of her typical tangents; he wasn't exactly sure when this conversation went from being about glee clubs to crack heads but suddenly, he was no longer following. "Listen Rachel, I know that you're smarter than me at this whole math thing, but I'm still pretty sure that even if I do join the glee club, you'll still need six more people."

"Well…" Rachel sounds suspicious as if this were a problem that she has already not only considered, but came up with a solution for as well. "I was thinking that maybe… well maybe you could ask some of your friends."

"Did you hit your head this morning or something?" Noah laughs although his question presents as semi-serious as he ducks downwards in an effort to meet Rachel's eyes, pretending to check her pupils for signs of a concussion.

"Noah, I'm serious…" She slaps him away from her, "My Broadway dreams are on the line here!"

"I'll think about it, okay?" Noah offers, his sigh masked by the warning bell as it rings above both of their heads. "I've gotta go to class, okay, I'll see you later."

"You don't have to go to class, Noah, you never go to class!" Rachel's voice elevates as Noah slings his backpack further up the length of his shoulder and takes off quickly down the hallway. "You're avoiding having to give me an answer!"

"I gave you an answer!" He calls back to her from the opposite end of the hallway.

"I meant a real answer, Noah!" She counters as her brother slowly disappears amidst the crowd, "Don't forget, Noah; crack head! Crack head!"

Her shouts elicit curious glances from a few passerby as they stare at Rachel as if she has three heads while meanwhile, Noah all but ignores her, offering her nothing more than a small wave, not even bothering to turn to face her as he disappears around the corner and out of sight completely.

With a sigh of defeat, Rachel turns towards the opposite direction that her brother had just disappeared beyond, her eyes subconsciously meeting with those of Santana Lopez's as the Latina lifts her head from the huddle of Cheerio's previously crowded around her brother, the sneer on her face telling Rachel that they had just been talking about her… and it hadn't been because they were giving her compliments.

"What is it Man Hands?" Santana sneers as their eyes catch, "Do you want to ask us to join the chess club?"

Their heads rear with a malicious laughter that practically forces Rachel to turn her head and just keep walking… She ignores her brother's friends strategically,

She always does, she always has to.

* * *

><p>Noah had been meticulously avoiding her all day long, or at least, that was the impression that Rachel was starting to get anyway…<p>

Following their brief meeting in the hallway, he had spent the rest of the school day treating her like a ghost, their only interaction since then being a single, allusive text that he sent her, telling her that he couldn't give her a ride home after school because he was spending the afternoon in the gym…

He'd snuck through the back door when he finally had arrived home, slipping silently up and into his bedroom, leaving Rachel worried that he was more upset with her than he originally thought for having called him out in front of all of his friends earlier that day…

She's barely paying attention as her soup slowly boils within the stovetop below… She had never been much of a chef, no, that job was better reserved for her mother, but Shelby had somehow found herself trustworthy of her children enough to leave them home alone for the weekend while she went up to Detroit for a long, overdue visit to her sister, and considering Noah was even more hopeless at the culinary arts than she was, it was this, or it was nothing.

She hisses in pain, her hand retreating naturally away from the heat as the soup boils over the edge of the pan and splashes recklessly against her skin.

Frustrated, she shuts the gas off on the stove more aggressively than what is probably necessary, slamming the spoon down against the countertop… She knows that she needs to talk to her brother and she knows that she needs to do so soon if she wants to accomplish anything more than a couple of third degree burns tonight.

Rachel slips up the stairwell slowly, planning her and Noah's entire conversation out inside of her head as she moves.

Noah's bedroom door is open a small crack, never having closed all the way, not since he'd slammed it so hard one day that he'd knocked the entire frame straight off the wall…

His light is slipping as a silver of yellow from out the door, drenching the otherwise dark hallway, and Rachel is mere seconds from barging straight into his bedroom, demanding answers when she hears his voice, barely above a whisper as it emits softly into the hall.

Rachel walks on her tip-toes, back pressed firmly against the wall; clearly whatever her brother is saying is meant to be kept secret…

She falls silent, containing even the very sounds of her breathing as her ears adjust to register his soft words… His tone sounds upset, desperate almost; he's breathing in a manner that makes it sound as if he's barely managing to hold back the tears, and finally, just as Rachel is starting to actually grow worried, his words ring clear, straight through her ears.

But once they do, she almost wishes that they hadn't…

"Pregnant, are you sure?"

Rachel's heart freezes as it leaps upwards and into her throat. She isn't exactly certain who it is that her brother is talking to on the phone, although she has a relatively good idea, and she isn't exactly sure of the context, although she knows that she could take a pretty accurate wild guess, but whatever this was, she was absolutely certain of at least one thing – this couldn't be good.

"Santana, calm down, don't cry okay?" Noah inadvertently confirms Rachel's initial assumptions, the last bit of hope that she had for this not directly involving her brother sucking out of her lungs with a rush of cold air. "We'll figure this out, okay, we'll be fine… Maybe… maybe this isn't as bad as you think."

He sounds more as if he's trying to convince himself of this rather than her, but Rachel can't blame him too much, the Corcoran's have grown to become optimists, no matter how hopeless a situation was. It was the only way that they had ever made it this far, it was the only way that they would ever make it further.

"I'll get another job, San," Rachel could truly only make out one side of this phone call, but really, it was all she actually needed, "I'll drop out of school and pick up some extra shifts at Sheets-n-Things. We'll be okay; everything is going to be okay."

Rachel shuts her eyes in her silent emphasis of her disappointment towards her brother's projected solution towards his problems, unnoticed by anyone but her as she leans her head back against the wall, heart continuing to slam faster and faster inside of her chest.

"Listen, I have to go but I'll see you at the game tonight… we'll talk then, okay?" He fell into a quick silence, the indistinct, muffled sounds of Santana's inaudible response through the phone filtering through the blank spaces lingering within the air between her and Noah. "I love you too… you and our baby."

Rachel hears the soft beep indicative of Noah's hanging up his phone and she immediately presses her ear closer against the wall, trying to listen in on his brother's response although, as it turned out, she didn't have to try nearly as hard to hear as she'd originally thought.

"Shit!" He bellows so loudly that Rachel jumps, releasing an inadvertent gasp of surprise muffled by the sounds of Noah's cell phone hitting the wall opposite her, where it inevitably had shattered into pieces.

She'd been so distracted that she hadn't even noticed the sound of Noah's footsteps until she was mere feet from his bedroom door, and by default, her.

Her adrenaline is pumping with the idea that she doesn't want her brother to know that she had heard his secret quite yet, forcing her to scamper away on the balls of her feet, moving silently in a manner that she'd acquired only from years of dance so that she quickly sits herself at her desk, trying to look pre-occupied.

"Hey…" She hears Noah call to her alongside a soft knock and she turns, putting her best expression of blissful ignorance on her face.

He's already in the jacket and tie that his football team requires for game days and she can't help but to think that it makes Noah look older, more grownup… especially with the burden of impending fatherhood looming above his head.

"My phone, uh… fell into the toilet. I gotta go get a new one before my game so will you be okay getting to the field by yourself?"

His voice sounds sad, distant even… It's uncharacteristic of her brother, especially right before a football game, and she can't help but feel as if even had she not been aware of the circumstances of his mood, she would have still been able to read the tension between them like a book.

It makes her more than a little bit nervous about what's going to happen once their mother returns from Detroit…

"Yeah," The truth sifts between them thick as steel, but she simply does what she can to avoid it. "Yeah, I'll call Kurt, his dad can drive me.

"Okay…" He seems uninterested, but his firm stance tells Rachel that he's not quite finished with her yet. "And listen, since mom's not around this weekend, um… the after party for the game is going to be here tonight, okay?"

Rachel eyes him skeptically… Forget that Shelby had explicitly stated before she'd left that there would be absolutely no people inside of this house other than them while she was gone, Rachel couldn't help but to think that with the emotional baggage associated with the announcement that he was going to be a father at seventeen, drinking at all, let alone hosting an entire party wasn't a smart move.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" She hints, trying to force him to understand a sense of responsibility, especially right now, without allowing him to figure out that she knows his secret.

"I don't need a lecture tonight, Rachel okay?" It wasn't like him to get snippy with her like this, and Rachel struggles to put it aside, trying to remind herself that this attitude wasn't about her, that her brother simply had a lot of things on his plate at the moment. "Look, I've just had a really long day, okay and I really, really want to get plastered tonight… So make sure you pack a bag or something so that you can stay at a friend's house and –"

"I'm coming to this party," Rachel tells him defiantly and her statement isn't emitted as a question, but a fact. "You can't kick me out of my own house, Noah!"

"No, you're not" He doesn't hesitate before he gives her his final answer. "And yes, I can."

"But Noah…"

"No!" He emphasizes, his voice rising exponentially, "Don't even try, Rach, I'm not in the mood today."

Rachel's mouth hangs open in an immediate retort; there are a million things that she wants to say right now, there are a million things that she _can_ say right now, but she remains silent despite herself, no is just not the right time.

"Fine," Rachel concedes verbally, but in her head she's mentally crossing her fingers; there's no way in hell that she is going to leave her brother alone to get drunk and belligerent tonight, not with all of this on his mind. "I'll sleep over at Kurt's house."

"Good," He nods, satisfied with his victory, to pre-occupied to see her lie for what it was. "I'll see you at the game."

Noah ducks from her bedroom with a stiff nod, leaving Rachel fidgety, itching to make her first motion… But she plays it safe, she waits until she hears the front door slam shut, and the unmistakable roar of Noah's car as it takes off down the street before she lunges for her cell phone, ripping it open before immediately sending out a mass text to her four fellow glee members…

'_Do you guys want to go to a party tonight?'_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Crazy-Wee-Cat<span>**** – It's definitely a start to the explanation but there's still a bit more mystery about Hiram to come around and this is definitely a huge factor leading up to that. Thanks for the review!**

**CloudGaze15**** – You are very, very welcome, please, take some more! I'm glad you liked Hiram's view on the matter, it was definitely the beginning of a much bigger arc for his character that clearly effects the rest of his family a lot so watch for little clues here and there. I'm trying to give you all a break from the sadness for at least a chapter or two, because the next part is when everything starts going down big time! As always, thanks for your marvelous reviews!**

**PurpleCocoa**** – Thanks for reviewing! Hiram will have his chance up again in a couple of chapters, as they come it will get a little clearer how insecure he is about himself, mainly his sexuality which is a big reason why he decided to marry Shelby and start a family with her. Everything's got to do with everything so keep watching for clues!**

**Sillystarshine**** – Ahh, thank you, thank you! He did a good job hiding his secret for a few years but now that it's starting to get out in the open, he's going to have a harder time controlling it and things are gonna start spiraling pretty fast for these poor guys. **

**Marinka4**** – Hahaha, me neither, trust me. Thanks for the review!**


	11. Rachel Corcoran  September 2011Part II

**So, aside from being probably the longest chapter of anything I have ever written, this is kind of the unofficial marker for the ending of "Part One" of sorts, which was basically my way of introducing a plot and all that, but prepare yourself, cause now there's some serious angst coming up in these next couple of chapters and a couple of characters that will have some arcs and redeeming moments, things like that. **

**Gotta give a quick shout out for all of you still trudging strong and reading this thing, you're all awesome!**

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran<strong> – September 2011

_(Part II)_

* * *

><p>She doesn't like football… in fact; she down-right hates it.<p>

In her personal opinion, it was a brutal, positively barbaric sport comprised of nothing more than a bunch of testosterone-ridden goons, obnoxiously drunken fans and miserably cold weather… all of the things that Rachel Corcoran hated the most.

But still, she had attended – for the sake of her brother – every single pee-wee, middle school, JV, and now, varsity football game that Noah had ever played in while in return, Noah had dragged himself to every one of her dance recitals, under the pretense that his friends never discovered the truth of his whereabouts at the time, of course.

"Come on, Noah!" Rachel's cheers are lost amidst the crowd as she slaps her gloved hands together in her support, her breaths just visible beneath the unusually frigid, late-September air.

She has absolutely no clue as to what's actually going on around her, but from what her incredibly limited knowledge of football can deduce, with but a little more than a minute of the game left to play, the Titans down by three and her brother taking his position onto the field, he's ready to become Lima's town hero… again.

Rachel can't actually identify him beneath all of the protective padding but the familiar number twenty emblazoned beneath their last name stamped clearly between his shoulder blades, combined with the way the crowd slowly stands to their feet, growing silent in anticipation as he takes his position behind the quarterback tells her everything that she needs to know…

"Blue 58," Finn's designated play call filters loudly above the heads of the otherwise quiet crowd, "Blue, 58… hut, hut!"

Finn accepts the perfectly placed snap, cradling the ball protectively inside of the pocket for but a brief moment before Noah sprints through the inside to accept the hand off and begin his rush…

With the ball nestled securely into his elbow, the star running back bypasses the defensive line easily, a few fancy moves quickly ensuring that the linebackers, as well as the cornerback were simply no match for his raw talent.

The clock is winding down at a seemingly record time as Noah picks up a Titans' first down with ease… He only has one safety left to blow through before he's home free; left with a clear shot straight into the end zone…

Rachel holds her breath nervously alongside the rest of the tense crowd… The safety is fast at Noah's heels, he's quick, but Noah is seemingly quicker as they pass the forty yard line, the thirty…

The defenders risks a dangerous last-resort diving tackle, lunging forwards with his arms outstretched where his fingertips graze, and miss Noah's hipbones by a mere hair.

The boy falls to the ground in his expression of defeat, landing chest first as he simultaneously performs one last, sweeping effort to bring Noah down from his position against the turf… His arm reaches for the running back once more, except this time, he finds his target, his fingers wrapping around Noah's thin, unprotected ankle joint…

He stumbles briefly so that for a split second, they all believe that he may actually retain his footing… But final ly, his normally flawless balance fails him, sending his giant frame toppling to the ground where he lands hard performs an impressive, albeit involuntary summersault… and loses the ball.

"Fumble!"

The shout of the overhead announcer filters alongside the disappointed groan of fellow onlookers and Rachel allows her head to drop, chin against her chest and hands covering her eyes effectively blocking her vision… but not before managing to catch a fleeting glimpse of the other team recovering the fumble.

"And the Kenton corner recovers the ball, he rushes up the line, he passes into his own half, he's at the forty, the thirty…" Rachel is listening to the announcer, but she can't seem to bring herself to look upon the same scene that he is... "The twenty, the ten… Touchdown Wildcats! And with that, they advance their lead to 23-14 with 26 seconds left in the game!"

A moan of disapproval washes across the crowd as Rachel's eyes finally open long enough to scan across the field where Noah is still seated against the turf at the Titan thirty yard line, head hung low in his disappointment…

He lifts himself upward slowly, sauntering off of the field just as the Kenton punter successfully achieves the extra point for his team, and Rachel scowls at the scene, her eyes refusing to leave her brother's form in the reminder of a guarantee that this night had just become even longer than Rachel knew that it was already going to be…

"Hey Rach, we're gonna split okay?" She jumps as Kurt nudges her against the ribs… In the simplest of terms, Rachel simply isn't used to being in the stadium's stands with anybody besides her mother… She's still adjusting to the idea that with glee, came a small handful of friendships that she'd never before, had the opportunity to have… And even still, she can't help but to fall paranoid towards the idea that they were simply parading around with her tonight, for the guarantee of a party. "We're gonna head back to my place to get ready for this party."

"Yeah…" Rachel nods absentmindedly, her eyes wandering rapidly between her friends and her brother as he retreats downtrodden towards the locker room, "Yeah, you guys go ahead, I'll catch up with you okay? I've gotta talk to my brother quick… um… to see if he needs any help setting up."

She lies to her friends quickly and easily; she hasn't exactly mentioned that her and her friends hadn't exactly been invited to said party per se, and she specifically left out the part where Noah had explicitly banned her presence.

"Yeah, alright," Kurt nods her off without so much as a second thought on the manner. "Text me when you wanna meet up, okay? I'll see you in a few."

"Bye…" Rachel waves towards their retreating backs, watching with a sigh of longing as they retreat towards the exiting crowd, leaving her to face the much needed damage control ahead alone…

* * *

><p><em>At the sound of the front door opening and closing sharply, twelve year old Rachel Corcoran tries her hardest to wipe the tears from her eyes before anybody could notice them… Of course, she knows that an hour of crying at the dining room table was bound to have left behind more physical evidence apart from visible tears, but she was at a point where she was willing to take her victories where she could find them…<em>

_ She makes a quick move to dart silently away, trying desperately to retreat into her bedroom before whoever was rapidly moving towards her could find her; she knows that it is either her brother coming home from school, or her mom from work, and either way, she doesn't want to talk to anybody right now…_

"_Hey, are you alright?"_

_She's at the bottom of the stairwell when a soft voice - that she recognizes immediately as that of her brother's - calls her back._

_ "Yeah," She pauses at the second stair but doesn't turn to face him in her refusal to allow him to make out her swollen sheets and bloodshot eyes, "I was just gonna go jump in the shower real quick."_

_ "Hey, wait up!" He calls back to her and with a heavy sigh she realizes that she has no choice but to stop now. "What's wrong?"_

_ "Nothing is wrong, Noah," The inclination in her voice raises involuntarily as the tears sting at her eyes once more; she doesn't want to talk about it, not now, not ever… But before she has the time to pull away, she feels his hand on her shoulder and he overpowers her easily, forcing her to face him so that the remnants of her distress align directly with his concerned eyes. _

_ "That sure as hell doesn't look like nothing," He insists; her brother was relentless, they all were in a manner that made Rachel more than certain that stubbornness was positively inscribed into their genetic code. "Come on talk to me… Who do you want me to beat up?"_

_ "Not now Noah, I'm not in the mood." She tries to pull out from underneath her brother's grasp but he just latches on even tighter, steering her towards the dining room table that she had just come from._

_ "Well then get in the mood, here, sit," He throws her into a vacant chair before sitting directly across from her. "Calm down, take a deep breath and tell me… Who do I have to punch?"_

_ Rachel pauses amidst several steadying, deep breaths as she stares intently at her brother, ultimately realizing that there was simply no other option other than to spill her guts to him…_

_ "Quinn Fabray," She finally sighs, looking upwards in order to meet her brother's eyes, "You know, that blonde bimbo that's always hanging around __your__ crowd," She emphasizes the word 'your' as if she's placing the blame for her misfortune upon her brother's shoulders, but Noah simply smiles in his response._

_ "Not my crowd anymore. I was expelled remember?" He reminds her as if any of them could ever forget. "But still, I don't punch girls so does this Quinn Fabray have a boyfriend or something that I can beat up instead?"_

_ "What, you mean you don't know?" Rachel asks him inquisitively in a suspicious manner that has him eyeing her quizzically. _

_ "Don't know what?" His voice raises slightly in his inquiry, "I got expelled Rachel, remember this, expelled! I don't know anything that goes on inside of that school anymore."_

_ "Quinn has been hanging around Finn a lot lately…" Rachel explains slowly through a shrug, receiving no more than a slanted eyebrow from Noah in response so that she knows that he wants her to continue in her explanation. "I'm not sure if they're actually official or anything but… I don't know, I'm surprised he hasn't told you himself."_

_ "I haven't really talked to Finn in a while…" Noah expresses his disappointment towards the very idea. "I'm still, you know…"_

_ "Adjusting," Rachel finishes his sentence for him, after all, his adjustment period wasn't exactly a secret around this household. He had been attending LHSCE for a little more than a week now and although he remained relatively silent about his experiences at the school thus far, Rachel knew that he was struggling with the change… He had to be. _

_ The silence filters heavily through the air, resting gently between the two siblings for several stiff second before finally, Noah breaks the air._

_ "Well I can't punch Finn, and I sure as hell can't punch Quinn…" He scrunches up his face in thought. "It looks like we're gonna need another solution."_

_ "What are you thinking?" She asks him._

_ "Come on," He remains suspiciously vague as he indicates for her to follow him, pushing himself away from the table where he immediately makes a bee-line straight for the garage door._

_ She eyes him curiously for a moment, confused about his intentions although she follows him anyway, allowing him to lead her into the garage that in the past several months, had become converted into Noah's own personal gym space._

_ He goes immediately towards the far corner of the room, his hands grasping for the punching bag dangling from the ceiling by a chain to stabilize it as he nods with his head for her to approach him. _

_ "You want me to hit that think?" Rachel asks her brother skeptically. _

_ "No," He rolls his eyes, sarcasm dripping off of each word. "I want you to seduce it… Now come on, show me what you've got."_

_ She approaches tentatively, her arms poised in a readying stance, looking almost afraid as she lunges forward, offering the best punch that her puny muscles can allow against the center of the bag…_

_ Wimpy, of course, would have been an understatement… by a long shot; the bag barely so much as moved beneath Noah's arms._

_ "That was pathetic," He makes the announcement as if that wasn't a fact that Rachel already knew, "Come on, I'll show you."_

_ He ducks out from behind the bag, positioning himself in front of her where he grabs onto her wrist and positions her knuckles strategically into a fist._

_ "The trick is all in the positioning of your fingers." He explains patiently, "Make sure that you really tuck them in there and bend your wrist just a little bit more or else all you're gonna do is break your knuckles."_

_ "This is barbaric, Noah…" Rachel sighs desperately as her brother once again, takes his place behind the punching bag._

_ "No it's not," He insists, although truthfully, he knows that it is… He also knows that his mother would kill him if she knew what it was that he was teaching Rachel in here. "Just pretend that it's Quinn Fabray's face you're punching… There you go, just like that… Ready, set… go!"_

* * *

><p>She manages to find her brother much easier than even she expects herself to.<p>

While the rest of his football team had already retreated into the safety of the locker room to bask in their defeat, he's leaning against the building's brick exterior, still fully padded with the exception of his helmet, which he is clutching onto firmly between his hands.

He's looking up and down the length of the track, his eyes wide, clearly in search of something or someone…

Rachel ducks quickly behind the cover of the concession stand to avoid Noah's wandering gaze… She isn't positively certain what it is that he's up to, but still, she doesn't want him to get the wrong idea thinking that she was actively trying to interrupt whatever it was that he was so committed to doing at the moment…

She almost can't help but to feel guilty; she's not exactly certain exactly when this day had transformed into being solely bout spying on her brother, but she was worried about him, which is how she warranted her endeavors as nothing more than absolutely necessary.

Noah begins pacing within seconds; a frantic back and forth motion that he performs, hugging against the wall closely, peering about the edge of the locker rooms with every couple of laps that he takes before repeating the cycle all over again…

Rachel is watching with a concerned glare, her eyes lingering for a few quick seconds as she finds herself growing quickly hypnotized by his motions before he stops moving abruptly and she feels herself snap out of her daze once more…

Santana is trudging towards him slowly, clutching tightly onto Noah's varsity jacket that is wrapped delicately around her shoulders, her Cheerio's skirt flapping gently in the frigid breeze around her bare thighs… She doesn't even bother to pause before throwing herself into Noah's arms, burrowing her much smaller body into his in an action that he immediately reciprocates, his muscular arms wrapping around her petite form, pulling her close into him as he buries her face into her hair.

Even from her distance, Rachel can see the tears beginning to formulate beneath her brother's eyes.

The couple doesn't speak for very long, but still, Rachel can practically hear their inaudible words from across the length of the green… They're thick, tense, they make her uncomfortable and she's not even a part of the conversation, not even close to it…

And for the first time in her entire life, Rachel Corcoran finds herself actually feeling bad for Santana Lopez, pitying her as she digests the fear, the child behind the girl's normally solid exterior.

The young couple's faces are doused with concern as they part ways with a quick kiss that leaves Rachel flushing red in her embarrassment, practically forcing her to turn her head away in an effort to give them the privacy that they already believe themselves to have.

They part ways but Rachel makes the brash decision to remain temporarily hidden in an effort to give her brother some breathing room, because if she knows Noah, and she does… he'll need it.

His pacing resumes almost immediately following Santana's departure, back hunched like a lion that's stalking its prey as his motions grow progressively faster and less uniform so that Rachel can tell that he's about to burst… and he does.

"Fuck!" His voice rings loud, clear as it echoes above the heads of the chattering crowd before them, presumably too preoccupied in their own conversation and recollections of disappointment over the Titans' devastating loss to notice that their star running back was in the midst of a nervous breakdown mere feet away…

She identifies this moment as a perfect opportunity to intervene just as Noah embraces his current streak of pelting his possessions against the wall; his latest victim being his football helmet which clashes with a loud clang against the brick wall, however, endures a better outcome than his previously deceased cell phone, still in pieces on his bedroom floor…

"Hey…" she approaches Noah cautiously, concerned that by making any sudden motions towards him in his emotional state might cause him to lash out at her unintentionally. "Are you okay?"

"Rachel…" He chokes in his surprise, turning abruptly on his heels as he tries desperately to straighten himself out and appear nonchalant. "H-how long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," She lies through a casual shrug, "But long enough… Noah what's going on with you? You've been acting strange all day." Rachel doesn't beat around the bush, she never does, instead she finds herself in search of immediate answers, practically begging for her brother to relay to her the truths that she already knows, but still feels obligated to hear from his own mouth anyway.

Noah pauses briefly; Rachel can see the truth dancing across his pupils and for the shortest of moments, she actually believes that he is going to breakdown before her, spill his guts right here, but then, his hands wrap gently around her upper arm, pulls her over around the corner of the building and points upwards towards the parking lot.

"Do you see that guy over there?" Noah asks her, "The one that's talking to Finn?"

Rachel squints, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the distant outline of Finn and an older man that she doesn't recognize, dressed down in a black suit with a scarlet tie that's emblazoned by a black night, the pin across his lapel brandishing a large, prominent letter "R".

"That was my scout, Rach," He sounds so broken, so defeated in a move that's so uncharacteristic of her brother, and suddenly, Rachel realizes that it seems as if Noah's problems are running few and far between today, everything falling atop him in a manner that has her heart aching for him just as badly as his is aching for himself. "He came to see me. This was my big break, Rachel, it was my ticket into Rutgers and I blew it."

"Come on, Noah," She tries to convince him that this is not the end of the world, that there will be other scouts, other opportunities; but his mind is a firestorm of emotions, no space for reason whatsoever. "Maybe he has a few people in mind, maybe he's just talking to everybody individually…"

"No!" Noah snaps, forcing Rachel to visibly jump. "I blew it, Rach, don't you get it! This was my shot and I blew it, just like I blow everything else. I played like shit tonight, my mind is all over the place… Nobody is gonna want a washed up running back that can't even keep his own emotions in check at their school."

Rachel doesn't respond to her brother's indirect cry for help, she doesn't know how to… Noah was a wreck and she couldn't even talk to him about the root of his problem because she wasn't even supposed to know…

"I'm sorry," He sighs after a brief silence, his face softening, mouth moving to slowly formulate his apology…

"It's okay…" Rachel simply shrugs him off.

"No it's not," Noah insists, shaking his head vigorously. "I've been an ass to you lately, I know that… It's just… I've had a lot of things on my mind these past few days and I took it out on you… it wasn't fair."

"It's okay," She repeats herself more firmly. "But Noah… are you absolutely sure about this party tonight? I mean, you're pissed off and I'm sorry but getting drunk to fix your problems just doesn't seem like a good idea to me right now… we both know that."

She sneaks in the last bit of her speech above no more than a quiet whisper, but he catches it anyway and for a brief second, he simply eyes her up, as if to consider her statement before he retreats.

"You worry too much, Rachel," He actually smiles at her although her warning was meant to be taken seriously. "I'll be fine, besides, half the team is probably already rolling the kegs into our house… That's the point of no return… Hey listen, I need to go change." He changes the subject quickly upon the recognition that his sister seemed un-amused by his attempts at humor. "I'll see you tomorrow though, okay?"

"Yeah," Rachel frown, suddenly, she's finding herself feeling badly about her plans to deceive her brother. "I'll see you tomorrow…"

"Oh, and Noah?" She calls him back just as he's about to disappear into the locker room and he turns in the doorway to face her. "Be careful, okay?"

The corners of his lips rise slightly in a smirk of appreciation as he offers her a short nod.

"I always do."

* * *

><p><em>There was nothing more in this entire world that Rachel hated more than school…<em>

_Since her days at Lima Elementary, her education has been marred by pure torture at the hands of her peers, and then, upon having entered into Chester A. Arthur Middle School a scrawny, nervous fifth grader, things, it seemed, only got worse._

_ She had gym first period; the class, that inconveniently, single-handedly made her life even more miserable than it already was… She hated gym._

_ Rachel had constructed a theory in regards to the manner by which the P.E. classes are assigned, and it involves the idea that the system is completely rigged… All of the athletic kids were always grouped into classes together while all of the wimpy artists and drama geeks another…_

_ And to be quite frank, Rachel preferred it that way; after all, it had worked out pretty well in her favor thus far until suddenly, she'd entered seventh grade, and either somebody had decided to play a cruel, cruel joke on her, or somewhere along the lines, she had slipped through the cracks of the system, because by some sort of ruthless act, she had been placed in the same gym class as all of the football players as well as all of the Junior Cheerios._

_And thus far, it has proven to be just as miserable as it sounded… if not more so._

_She'd been sitting in her spot in the attendance line against the gym floor early in the year on one not so particularly special Wednesday, and as if the attendance people hadn't already screwed her over enough simply by placing her within this particular class, they had definitely turned it into a double whammy by failing to find anybody with a last name that began with either a D or an E to fill in the spaces between her and Quinn Fabray._

_ It had already been a long year having to constantly be besides Quinn in the worst class of her entire curriculum and the year had barely even started yet…_

_ "Okay people, listen up," Their gym teacher had called for their attention just as the late bell rang and the last of the stragglers scurried towards their places in line. "This is mostly for all of the ladies in this class, but the sixth grade Girl Scout troop here will be hosting a Father-Daughter Square Dance next Saturday evening."_

_ Rachel swallows hard as her heart begins to beat exponentially faster within her chest, much as how it often did when there was mention of any sort of activity that involved her father… _

_ Her father, as it was, that she no longer had._

_ She didn't like to talk about him, she didn't like to so much as think about him; not now, not ever and not to anybody._

_ "Are you coming, Corcoran?" Quinn Fabray is the last person that she wants to speak to regarding this matter, but as the self-appointed head of their class Girl Scout troop – the one that Rachel had never even bothered to join – she's the one that is passing out the flyers for this heart breakingly simple event, and somehow, she's managed to drop one directly into Rachel's lap before the girl so much as has the opportunity to reject it._

_ "Oh that's right…" Quinn sneers just as Rachel makes the mistake of turning her gaze downward upon the paper; a cartoon father and daughter holding hands within the image of a magnified heart. "You don't have a father."_

_ Rachel's lungs give out from within her ribcage and for several seconds that feel like hours, she literally forgets how it is that one manages to breathe. _

_Her hands make a subconscious fist against the flyer, the computer paper crumpling at its junction with her skin; Rachel has had her fair share of encounters with Quinn Fabray over the years, but never in her life had she ever understood how an individual might come to actually kill a person until today._

_Rachel doesn't remember rising to her feet, she doesn't remember releasing the flyer from her tight grasp, allowing it to flutter to the floor at her feet; one minute, she is sitting, and the next, she is face-to-face with Quinn, her eyes narrowing upward at the blonde's slightly taller frame._

_ "What's the matter Rachel; are you embarrassed?" Quinn's voice is elevated now, the entire class has fallen silent all around them watching in waiting for where Quinn is headed next with the Corcoran family secret lingering at the very tip of her tongue; not even the teacher, it seems can decide what it is that he should be doing about this situation. "My dad told me all about your dad, Rachel, about how he left your mother for another man."_

_ The crowd begins to murmur all around them, capitalizing on the mortifying acknowledgment of Rachel's darkened past, but Rachel doesn't hear them, in fact, the only thing that she can focus on is the lesson that her brother had taught her, mere days ago – how to punch somebody's lights out, and make it hurt._

_ "I know what your father did, Rachel, I know how he died…" She's practically shouting, her blue eyes, filled with so much spite, permanently fixed upon Rachel's, glowing practically red in her rage. "You think that people in this town forget, you think that we don't know, but I know you Rachel Corcoran, I know exactly what you are…"_

_ Quinn leans in close towards Rachel's ear so that her lips are practically touching Rachel's skin although she doesn't bother lowering her voice when she speaks._

"_A bastard."_

* * *

><p>"So remind me again… If this is supposed to be such a raging party, then why are sneaking in through the back?" Mercedes Jones points out the obvious as Rachel struggles to unhitch the trick latch on the chain link fence leading into her backyard.<p>

"Because, uh…"Rachel hesitates, searching her brain wildly for a believable explanation. In reality, she was just trying to avoid running into Noah by any means necessary, but of course, Rachel had conveniently chosen to leave out the fact that they hadn't exactly been _invited_ to said raging party per se, to her friends. "Because there aren't any stairs in the back… It'll be easier to get Artie inside."

Rachel nods towards the wheelchair-bound boy, generating a quick nod of approval amidst her companions, all of whom seemed to accept her on the spot lie as she approaches the glass sliding back door with caution…

Even through the thick glass, she can hear the music inside blaring. She can't help but to feel as if her brother should consider himself lucky if he didn't get himself arrested tonight as she makes a business peering into the kitchen in search for any signs of him, only to come up clear.

With a deep breath, she takes the risk, sliding the door open slowly before she shuffles all of her friends inside, leaving her to feel more accomplished than she had ever felt in her entire life…

"Okay," Mercedes is oblivious to Rachel's caution as she gets down to business instantly, pulling five water bottles full to the brim with a light-pink liquid from her bag instantly. "My older brother picked me up a bottle of vodka with his fake ID tonight… I made ya'll cranberry vodkas for tonight."

She dispenses the beverage proudly amidst her friends, the five naïve glee-clubbers all sniffing hesitantly at its contents… It wasn't exactly a secret that none of them have ever actually drunk alcohol before…

"Is it good?" Artie's nose is wrinkled in nervous anticipation; he's curious, yet nervous for the first sip.

"Let's find out, shall we?" With a deep breath, Rachel is the first to take the risk with a generous sip from her bottle… She swishes the liquid experimentally inside of her mouth before swallowing, her face wrinkling with displeasure as it burns down the length of her esophagus, settling directly inside of the pit of her stomach in a manner that leaves her gagging, tears swelling involuntarily against the undersides of her eyes.

"Jesus Mercedes, how much vodka did you put in this?" Rachel asks , wiping at her moist eyes with the back of her hand.

"I don't know!" Mercedes defends herself quickly, "I had to finish the handle so that my parents wouldn't find it so I kind of used… well, all of it"

Her friends eye each other nervously.

"Rachel! Hey, Rachel over here," She hears the familiar voice call to her from across the room and her heart freezes in an immediate fear regarding her recognition.

She darts away from her friends without so much of an explanation, rushing into the dining room in an effort to stop the blatant announcement of her appearance before her brother can hear, but luckily, he remains nowhere to be found about the drunken form of Finn Hudson, hovering over the beer pong table, red solo cup in one hand, ping pong ball in the other as he lines up his next shot, oblivious to the idea that his girlfriend is eyeing Rachel angrily from her position beneath Finn's arm.

"So, Puck actually let you stick around for this little shin-dig?" Finn's voice slurs as he questions her, simultaneously taking his shot, the ball missing its intended target by a mile, "I would have thought he'd have you locked off within a mile radius."

"Yeah…" Rachel laughs nervously, disguising her reddening face with another sip of her drink although she regrets the action almost immediately as the second sip hits her even harder than the first one had.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that!" He insists, and in all of the years that Rachel had known Finn Hudson, she suddenly realizes that she has never seen him drunk before… It was foreign, unusually out of character for him; she wasn't really sure if she liked it or not. "Come on Rach, I bet you that this is even your first time drinking… Come on, I'll race you."

He pushes Quinn out from underneath him rather aggressively in an effort to situate himself for his self proclaimed drink-off… In turn, the girl instantly begins to glare daggers towards Rachel, as if her being shunned by her boyfriend was all her fault.

She's consciously aware of the fact that she shouldn't do this… Deep in her heart of hearts she knows that it is the wrong move to make, and that her brother would kill not only her, but Finn as well should he walk in on them in this inopportune moment… but suddenly, she can't seem to bring herself to care.

Maybe it was the alcohol hitting her early, or maybe it was her subconscious desire to just let loose for once following a lifetime of constant worry towards what others would think, but whatever it was, before she knows it, she's holding a water bottle full to the brim of practically straight vodka against her face, and she's challenging the quarterback of the football team to a drinking race…

She can't help but to think that this was a lifestyle that she could get used to.

She drains her beverage at an impressive speed, lowering the empty bottle to an eruption of tears that she struggles to properly identify through her hazy, tear-filled eyes and sudden urge to vomit everything that she had just consumed…

Her hands dart upwards to cover her mouth, sealing it closed for fear that should she so much as speak, something much more than words would come out as she pushes through the crowd in an effort to rush towards the upstairs bathroom, her theory being that should she embarrassingly find herself puking after a mere one drink, she would like to do it in privacy…

But her theory proves unachievable quickly, a realization made obvious as she turns the corner up the stairs into the bathroom and quickly notices that although indeed much quieter, she still is not alone… not by a long shot.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel risks the chance of opening her mouth in an effort to address the tiny Latina sitting on the bathroom's countertop, staring absentmindedly out of the room's small window.

Santana Lopez's head shoots immediately towards the doorway in response to the sudden voice, jumping slightly and eyes wide with the shock produced by the sudden presence of another person before her…

"What are you doing here?" Santana counters, regaining her cool quickly upon identifying the intrusion merely as Rachel. "From what I heard from your brother, you should be curled up at Kurt Hummel's house right about now watching Twilight and doing each other's makeup."

Rachel's brows furrow as she glares angrily towards Santana… Normally, she wouldn't bother so much as trying to stand up to the girl, normally, she would find herself too afraid to so much say two words to her, but today, she had finally hacked into the new and improved Rachel Corcoran, the one transpired with a generous dose of liquid courage…

Today she was going to turn her reputation around straight on its heels.

"Well for your information…" Rachel begins what, in her head, seemed to be an appropriately witty comeback, but before she has the opportunity to share it with its intended target, her eyes focus in on the full red cup nestled between Santana's hands and the words are sucked from her throat before she has the opportunity to emit them…

Santana was drinking. Santana was drinking and she was pregnant with _her _niece or nephew…

"Do you really thing that drinking right now is the best idea?" Rachel asks, watching as Santana eyes her suspiciously, wondering whether or not Rachel was going towards the direction that Santana thinks she is. "You know… in your condition?"

"Puck told you." She speaks sternly, her tone an inflected with a forced harshness although Rachel can easily sense the fear hidden in the background… Her words are not presented as a question, but an accusation.

"No," Rachel shakes her head, clearing her brother's name quickly. "He didn't tell me anything. I overheard Noah talking to you the phone earlier… by accident." Rachel throws in her final statement quickly, because Santana might be pregnant, but Rachel was quite certain that she could still kick Rachel's ass if she truly wanted to.

"That's none of your business, Rachel," Santana informs her, her voice dropping into a low, serious tone. "So just stay out of it, okay?"

"It is so my business!" Rachel is practically shouting, and Santana can't help but to cringe behind the volume of her voice. "That's my niece or nephew that you are pregnant with!"

"Will you keep your damn voice down?" Santana scolds harshly, launching herself like a projectile off the counter top and across the room so that she can close the bathroom door behind the two.

"So… so nobody knows yet?" Rachel asks hesitantly; her and Santana may have their differences, yeah, but that didn't mean that Rachel could help but to feel bad for the girl, being forced to walk around with such an enormous secret weighing down against her shoulders.

"No, nobody knows!" Santana shoots back, "I just found out today, Rachel, what do you want for me to do, walk around with a billboard strapped to my chest? It's not exactly something that I want to get around." She eyes Rachel accusingly. "The only people that know right now are me, you and Puck…. And for now, Puck and I want to keep it that way."

Santana is eyeing Rachel threateningly, silently insisting that Rachel keep this secret between them as if Rachel actually had anybody to tell… She's under the impression that Santana's biggest concern was that Rachel would in turn, tell Shelby… as if Rachel wanted to be around her mother for when _that_ news was broken to her…

"Fine," Rachel concedes quickly, a reciprocating thought quickly entering her mind. "Noah… I mean Puck; he doesn't exactly know that I know about this yet… Actually, he doesn't even know that I'm here at all." Santana raises a quick eyebrow; she knew that there was something suspicious about Rachel's presence. "I'd… I'd like to tell him that I know myself…you know… if you don't mind."

"So we're keeping each other's secrets," Santana nods in what has turned into an unpredictably pleasant conversation between the two girls who had previously barely so much as spoken.

"Does this make us, I don't know…" Rachel shrugs, "Friends or something?"

"Don't push it Man Hands." Santana tells her sternly, thrusting a threatening finger directly into Rachel's face. "I still don't like you."

"Fine," Rachel rolls her eyes. She can't help but to give herself at least some credit for trying.

"Is that it?" Santana asks in an effort to rush Rachel out so that she can return to her coveted privacy, if just for another moment.

"One more thing…" Rachel tells her, and Santana presents herself, prepared to listen, but before the girl so much as has time to process Rachel's actions, the girl snatches the solo cup from between Santana's hands, confiscating her beverage before rushing down the stairs with it, Santana hot on her heels the entire time that she is moving so that when Rachel finally does stop, directly at the base of the stairs, Santana damn near knocks her flat on her ass.

"Hey!" Rachel calls for the undivided attention of the audience but other than a couple of heads turning towards her general direction, they seem uninterested in the girl. "Hey everybody listen here! Shut up for a second!"

Her harsh insistencies carry loudly only with the assistance of the advanced lung capacity granted to her from years of singing… The music stops abruptly, all heads turn towards her and quickly, she finds herself regretting having called all of the attention onto herself as she locks eyes with those of her brother; his widening in his shock towards her presence only briefly before they narrow with anger, leaving him to push through the crowd in an effort to get to her.

But luckily for Rachel, her healthy buzz leaves her unable to care for such trivialities or their consequences for too long.

"Uh… Santana Lopez is cut off for the night!" Rachel brings herself back onto target trying to ignore the idea that Noah, if possible, suddenly looks even angrier with the recognition that his pregnant girlfriend was drinking. "She's uh… she's wasted." Rachel develops the lie easily, hoping that everybody currently listening to her would be too drunk to notice either the pathetic effort placed behind the attempt, or Santana's glaring form, standing behind Rachel with her arms folded across her chest looking both fuming and very, very sober. "So nobody give her anymore alcohol tonight and – "

"Rachel, what the hell are you doing here?" Noah interrupts her harshly, latching himself onto her wrist so that he can drag her towards him. "I thought that you were staying Kurt's… And Santana are you… are you drinking? We talked about this before; you're supposed to be staying sober tonight!"

Noah's eyes flicker rapidly between Rachel and Santana, unsure really, where it is that he should be starting between the two of them as the crowd surrounding them begins to laugh and jeer at the trio in response to Rachel's announcement and Noah's heated interference.

"It's water, Noah," Santana shoots the comment towards him before glaring at Rachel as the younger girl's cheeks flush in embarrassment towards her error. "Your sister would have realized that if she wasn't drunk!"

Noah turns rapidly towards Rachel, the anger prominent on his face as she is practically forced to turn her gaze away from him… That whole tentative, albeit shaky trust tree that her and Santana had just formed had just been shattered…

"You've been drinking?" He asks, the anger more than obvious behind his voice.

"No… I… well yeah, but only a little bit!" Rachel stutters pathetically, leaving Noah unable to do much more than shake his head at her briefly before he turns away from his sister in an effort to grab onto Santana's hand.

"Come on Santana, I'm taking you home." He tells his girlfriend, who immediately follows him more than willing, if not grateful towards the door. "Don't move, Rachel, I'll be right back."

"Wait, Noah!" Rachel rushes to follow, stumbling over her own two feet as she struggles to catch up and regain some of the brownie points that she had since lost with Noah. "You shouldn't be driving!"

"I'm not drinking tonight, Rach… I'm sober. Somebody told me before that drinking tonight wasn't a good idea…" He eyes her accusingly, "She was right."

He turns away without so much as another word, disappearing behind the front door with Santana at his side, the wooden barricade slamming behind him in a manner that leaves her stomach sinking with guilt; she hadn't anticipated this abrupt change in events… At the time she'd approached her brother, she hadn't thought that he had been listening to a word that she had to say… she never did.

Suddenly she realizes that she had never been more wrong in her entire life.

"Hey, do you want a shot?" She had absolutely no idea who the kid that had just approached her with a full shot glass in one hand and a nearly full bottle of Bacardi in the other was, but she was rather certain that he was in fact, an angel that had been sent down to her by God himself… To say that she needed a shot right now would have been an understatement.

She thanks him politely, but at the same time, snatches the bottle from his hand, leaving him instead with the single shot glass; the exact opposite of his original intentions.

Rachel ignores his protests as she weaves her way slowly into the kitchen towards where her friends are still circled around the counter, struggling to put a dent in their vodka-filled water bottles… the same one that she had crushed nearly half an hour ago now.

"Hey Rach, we've been looking for you." Kurt waves her towards them, but his tone changes rather abruptly upon actually seeing her. "You're looking a little bit off."

"I'm fine," Rachel insists although her answer is just a little bit too brash to be entirely believable as she pours herself a generous dose of the rum that she had just stolen. "Now who wants a shot?"

* * *

><p>"<em>You taught your sister how to fight?" Rachel can hear her mother screaming at her brother in the living room all the way from the kitchen, where she is currently sitting with an ice pack over her swollen knuckles, waiting for her turn to receive a verbal berating from her mother. "Please tell me that I heard you wrong, Noah… You taught your little sister how to fight?"<em>

_ "Well it was about time somebody taught her how to stand up for herself!" Noah shoots back harshly… Noah and Shelby hadn't exactly been seeing eye-to-eye on things lately, not ever since Noah had been expelled from the McKinley school district anyway… "She's getting harassed at school daily mom, and everybody is just turning their heads! Did the principal even tell you what Quinn said to Rachel today?"_

_ "It doesn't matter what Quinn said, Noah," Shelby sighs, clearly exasperated. "Rachel nearly broke her jaw, the Fabray's might be pressing charges… I went through enough of this while you were in that school, I can't do it again… I won't."_

_ "That's bullshit and you know it!" Noah is screaming now, and Rachel can't help but to flinch in her reaction. _

_ "Noah, please…"_

_ "She called Rachel a bastard, mom!" Noah repeats Quinn's words and Rachel can immediately feel a tear slip slowly from the corner of her eye at the mere memory of what had quickly become the most humiliating day of her entire life. "She called Rachel out in front of her entire class all because of what Hiram did to us."_

_Noah had rejected the notion of acknowledging Hiram as his father years ago… but today, it's stinging Rachel particularly hard._

"_What Quinn did was wrong Noah, I'm not denying that, but you know as well as I do that the Fabray's have been a thorn in our side since we moved in here…" Rachel knew that to say 'a thorn in their side' was a brash understatement… The Fabray family had a lot of power in Lima, but their company was strictly exclusive… Rachel can remember one particular incident when their church had raised a significant amount of money for the Corcoran's while Rachel was sick but Russell Fabray had refused to give it to them simply because the family was Jewish… "But teaching Rachel how to fight her way out of a tough situation isn't right… I appreciate you looking out for your sister Noah, really I do, but she looks up to you, try to find more practical solutions… please."_

_ Her tone is emitted as nearly a plea, but it is met with silence, Noah out of arguments with the acknowledgment that his mother simply wasn't going to see things his way no matter how hard he tried._

_ "Why are you defending her, mom?" Noah finally asks Shelby, his voice lowering although Rachel can still hear him. "Quinn is terrible to Rachel and you know it. Why don't you support us instead of her for once?"_

_ "Noah, you know that I love the both of you more than anything else in this world." Shelby sighs in her frustration towards the fact that her son just doesn't seem to be seeing things her way. "I'm not defending anything that the Fabray's have done to Rachel or to our family… I'm saying this to you because I know that you and Rachel are better than that, better than them…"_

_ "You mean Rachel is better than them…" Noah corrects her quickly._

_ "I mean both of you." Shelby counters and Rachel can practically see her brother's head shaking in his disagreement towards his mother's words._

_ "Look where I am mom!" He yells to her as if any of them needed the reminder. "Rachel is better than them, I'm not."_

_ "Noah!" Rachel hears his mother calling out to him over the unmistakable shuffle of motion as Noah races from the room. _

_ Rachel's head turns up as the footsteps get closer towards her… He appears in the doorway within moments, lingering so that their eyes meet in one fleeting motion… He remains silent, but at the same time, offers her a soft smile and a nod of his head that Rachel reciprocates immediately._

_ He's gone just as quickly as he appears, retreating up the stairs and towards his bedroom, but Rachel isn't greeted with much privacy to linger before her mother is walking through the same doorway that her brother had just disappeared from._

_ "Rachel?" She calls for her daughter's attention although she already has it as she sits down against the dining room table, directly across from her young clone. "Your brother told me what happened…" She has to know that Rachel already knows this but she informs her anyway, her voice soft as it filters across the room with a hint of hurt towards the idea that Rachel had chosen to confide in Noah rather than her. "Honey, I know that what Quinn said about your father was wrong…"_

_ Shelby tries desperately to initiate conversation but Rachel is determinedly silent, avoiding eye contact with her mother at all costs._

_ "Do you want to talk about it?" She finally asks._

_ "No," Rachel cuts straight to the point; no hesitation behind her voice whatsoever… She doesn't like to talk about her father, she doesn't like to acknowledge the guilt that she associates with his death every time his name is so much as mentioned…_

_She never had, and if she's certain about one thing, it's that she never will._

* * *

><p>Rachel can't pinpoint the exact moment that she found herself blacking out entirely, but all she does know is that one minute, she is draining a bottle of rum and the next, she's lying down in her bed, Noah draping the sheets gently over her body although she is still dressed in the clothes that she had been wearing at the party… hell, she was even still wearing her shoes.<p>

"Noah, you're home!" She exclaims energetically, pushing herself from beneath the covers, subsequently ruining all of the effort that her brother had made putting her under them in the first place.

"Yeah, and you're wasted." Had she been in a more coherent state of mind, she could have registered the disappointment behind her brother's voice, the groan of frustration, but instead, she merely giggles like a school girl as she climbs out of bed and wraps her arms around the back of her brother's neck in an action that's meant to be a hug, although mostly, she simply winds up hanging onto him, his body weight supporting the entirety of her own.

"Did I ever tell you that you were the best big brother ever?" She slurs as her brother attempts to wrestle her back into her bed… She's resisting his motions, but even in her belligerent mindset she knows that it's a waste of energy, she already knows that her brother is strong enough to be everything that she's ever needed, and right now, what she needed was sleep.

"I told you to stay put, Rachel." He ignores her comments and instead, begins to immediately scold her for her lack of discipline in a manner that forces Rachel to grow uncharacteristically defensive almost immediately. "I told you to stay where I left you while I was driving Santana home!"

"You can't tell me what to do, Noah, you're not dad you know!" He's so taken aback by the harshness of her out-of-the-blue statement that he stumbles over himself, Rachel slipping from his hands so that she loses her footing almost instantly and crashes back down against her own bed… but she seems undeterred. "You're always trying to be like him, you're always trying to act like him… Just because he failed us doesn't mean that you get to replace him!"

Her words sting like a slap to the face so that even Rachel - so incoherent that an emotional barrier eleven years in the making is cracking through the hole between her lips – realizes that she's crossed a line.

Both Corcoran's pause; their eyes meeting wide and in a complete awe towards what they're hearing coming from Rachel's mouth… She brings a shocked hand up towards her mouth, her trembling hand covering the orifice as realization dawns across her features in an eruption of a physical paleness that drains the color straight out of the entirety of her face.

They sit in silence forever, or so it seems, the air hanging above them so thick that neither can so much as breathe until suddenly, tears begin to well inside of Rachel's eyes, her neck slackening so that her head hangs pathetically into her chest.

"Dad died because of me, Noah."

He's never heard her speak like this… Hell, he's rarely heard her so much as mention their father since his death. She had been four years old at the time, dazed from childhood and her difficult recovery; she had barely known Hiram…

The only memory that either of the Corcoran had of their father was the reminder that he had left them here – Noah, Rachel and Shelby – alone when they had needed him the most… He had left his family and now, Noah was finding out the hard way that he had also left Rachel with an apparently permanent mark against her fragile conscience… a mark that had been more than wrongfully placed.

"Dad didn't die because of you, Rachel." Noah tries to slip through Rachel's drunken confessions, his words emitted easier with the knowledge that Rachel probably wouldn't remember them in the morning anyway… "He died because he was weak… But don't worry about him; you get all of your strength from mom anyway."

"Then where do you get yours?" She hiccups and turns to face him. Her eyes are red, swollen, filled with fresh tears that make a flash of rage towards Hiram erupt through Noah's very soul all over again.

"From you," He offers her a grin that Rachel immediately reciprocates. "Now come on," He moves quickly, wrestling Rachel beneath her sheets once more. "Go to bed okay; you need to sleep this off."

She swats at his hand feebly, muttering incoherent protests that he can't even understand… She's absolutely no match for him in the state that she's in; he has her fast asleep against her pillows within seconds.

"Goodnight Rach," He sighs into the air, carefully situating the garbage pail directly beneath her just in case, before making the mood to retreat, only to be called back once more.

"Noah…" She sounds miserable, and for a brief moment, he wonders whether or not the impending hangover has already hit her; that moment of absolute regret towards all of the poor decisions made the night prior.

"What is it Rach?" He calls back to her with a sigh; his sister was already impossible to get to adhere to directions when sober; drunkenly, it seems, she was only ten times worse.

"Will you take me with you when you go?" She speaks in a morbid riddle that has Noah raising an eyebrow… he has absolutely no idea what the hell she's talking about.

"What?"

"Take me with you…" She repeats herself, speaking desperately although her meaning is no clearer the second time around. "I don't want to be here alone… please Noah, you have to promise!"

"Where are we going, Rachel?" He tries to joke with her, to help her to understand that she's sounding like a crazy person at the moment, but her face is so strained with desperation, with a sober seriousness that he struggles in his efforts… even if his sister is wasted.

"Something bad is about to happen Noah…" His heart sinks further below his ribcage… Suddenly, he can't help but to wonder if a single statement held the capacity to turn his entire world completely upside down – experience tells him that it can. He forces the thought out of his mind; he's worrying himself over something that his sister doesn't even know that she is saying. "I can feel it."

"I'm not so sure about that Rachel." He sounds unconvinced of his own assurances. "Unless you're talking about how hung over you're gonna be when you wake up."

"Promise me, Noah…" She begs.

"Okay, okay," He nods in his consent. "I promise."

"Thank you," Rachel nods apparently satisfied, finally allowing herself to curl comfortably against her bed.

"You're welcome…" He reciprocates. "But you know you don't have to thank me; you know that I would never be able to leave you behind…" He's trying to be sweet, trying to be extra assuring to his apparently distressed sister, but his motions fall to deaf ears; Rachel is snoring before the words so much as finish falling from his lips.

With a sigh, Noah retreats from the bedroom, flipping the light off and closing the door behind him in his wake…

He tries to push Rachel's bizarre words from his mind as he descends back down the stairs towards his own party, that his classmates seem to be enjoying much, much more than him, but he can't help but to wonder if the weight that had just been revealed, lingering within the confines of Rachel's chest for an untold amount of time had finally expressed to Noah, the beginnings of a bigger mess, that not even he was capable of fixing.

* * *

><p>"<em>Noah?"<em>

_The boy looks upwards upon hearing a soft knocking against his slightly adjacent bedroom door, a slight laugh dawning across his features upon seeing his sister lingering in the doorway. _

_ "How's it going, Rocky?" He seems amused by his own joke, but Rachel doesn't reciprocate his joy, instead, she feels scared, fragile, smaller than she already knows that she is; Noah's expression changes in a heartbeat. "Hey, what's wrong?" _

_ He scrambles to stand to his feet, rushing to meet her halfway as she invites herself into his room and advances further inside._

_ "I hit Quinn today, Noah." She reminds her brother of the news that she had already informed him of hours ago now._

_ "I know…" He responds to her curious statement confusedly. "Mom yelled at me for it damn near an hour ago now… You were there, Rachel, you should know." _

_ "No… I mean… I mean that I hit Quinn today and it didn't make me feel any better." She clarifies on her initial statement. "I got suspended from school, mom grounded me and now the Fabray's are thinking about pressing charges against me… What if I can't get into college now because they've seen I've been suspended? What if I go to jail?"_

_ "Relax Rachel, relax," He attempts to calm his sister as she quickly begins to hyperventilate in her fear, panic budding inside of her chest so that she practically falls against her brother's bed. "Nobody is going to jail, okay? Everything is going to be fine."_

_ "I don't want to fight anymore, Noah." Rachel informs her brother gently, hiccupping through the tears that have since begun formulating in a thin layer against her eyes. "I know that you taught me how to and everything, but I don't want to fight anymore… and I don't think that you should either. It's not how you fix things, Noah and it doesn't help anything… it just makes it worse."_

_ "Do you have any idea how much like mom you sound right now?" Noah laughs, but Rachel doesn't reciprocate his actions, instead, she merely stares him down even harder. _

_ "I'm serious Noah." She informs him. _

_ "I know you are…" He shrugs his shoulders upwards at her casually. "And you're right, you know."_

_ "I am?" She questions him skeptically… She hadn't expected this conversation to be so easy, for her brother to agree with her so quickly without so much as a an argument._

_ "Of course," He nods, walking slowly over towards his closet where he immediately dips into its sloppy contents, shifting through the clutter, clearly in search for something specific. "It takes a little bit of trial and error to figure out your place, Rachel, I know that, but don't worry, eventually you'll realize that we're all just a piece of this giant ass puzzle that makes absolutely no sense to anybody." _

_ He emerges from within his closet and presents himself upright, turning to face Rachel so that she immediately recognizes the square glass bottle clutched within his right hand; the black label confirming the practically depleted, brown liquid contained within it as Noah's personal favorite brand of whisky._

_ "We're not perfect Rachel… our family I mean, and you're right, fighting might not help you," He uncaps the bottle and swirls it in slow, figure-eight motions to mix the contents. "But I know something else that definitely will." _

_ He ignores Rachel's concerned expression easily as he brings the head of the bottle up to his lips and tilts it at a complete 90© angle, draining the remainder of its contents into his mouth without so much as flinching. _

_ "The bottle gets to us all eventually," He tells her as she remains strictly silent in her inability to process exactly what it was that her brother was expressing to her. "We might as well embrace it."_

* * *

><p>She didn't think that it was possible for a hangover to last an entire weekend and beyond, but on Monday morning, when she practically fell out of her bed mere minutes before having to leave for school for the day, still feeling as if she had been hit by a truck, she learned quickly that it was.<p>

She'd sworn off alcohol permanently early on Saturday morning, having spent the entirety of the day hunched over the toilet bowl throwing up in her impossibly hungover state, and as if she had had any doubts regarding her decision come Sunday - when she woke up still feeling as if she were absolutely dying – they were overturned abruptly.

Having cancer, she couldn't help but think, had been easier than this.

Her throbbing headache ensures her sunglasses to be practically attached to her face throughout the majority of the morning, although she is indoors inside of the vaguely dim choir room, seated in her typical chair, front and center, just wondering how the hell she was going to make it through glee practice this morning when every time she so much as opened her mouth, she wanted to do nothing more other than throw up…

She was at the point of begging for this miserable feeling to pass… Her mother would be arriving home later that evening, and although Noah had done an impeccable job cleaning up the house of any remnants of a party, Rachel's blatantly incapacitated state would give their secret away in a heartbeat…

Shelby possessed the uncanny ability of reading both of her children like a book; it didn't matter that Noah had done his very best to erase all of the physical evidence, he was much more experienced at deceit than Rachel was… she was the weakest link in this particular scenario, and she was about to be put to the test.

"You're unusually quiet today, Rachel," Mr. Schuester's comment couldn't have come at a worse time for Rachel's confidence… If she couldn't convince her glee instructor that she was fine, how the hell was she going to get this hangover past her mother? "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes…" Rachel simply groans in her response, unable to offer much more than that.

She feels utterly useless in their meeting, the club having been trying for the past hour to come up with song selections for Sectionals; struggling without the decisive input that Rachel usually had to offer… Not like it mattered, it wasn't as if they were going to manage to magically procure enough people to actually compete anyway…

"Mr. Schuester?" Her ears perk upwards in response to the familiar voice as color drains into her face for the first time in days…

Her eyes scan across the length of the room, locking upon the image of her brother standing awkwardly within the doorway and she can't help but to smile; she had given up all hope towards the idea that he was actually going to come today… One day, she realizes, she would learn to have more faith in her brother to pull through for her…

He never allows her to be let down; never.

"Mr. Corcoran…" Mr. Schuester sounds suspicious, unsure exactly what it is that the captain of the football team is doing approaching him in the midst of a glee club rehearsal. "If you're looking for Spanish tutoring, my office hours aren't until after school…"

"Actually Mr. Schuester…" Noah's eyes turn towards his feet as he scuffs them against the tile, staring sheepishly as he slowly progresses towards his actual intentions. "I, uh… well, I wanted to join the glee club."

All at once, Rachel is beaming; her throbbing headache, her turning stomach disappearing amidst the collective gasps of shock originating from her fellow glee clubbers seated behind her… When Rachel had told them that she was trying to recruit her brother and his friends to fill in for their missing numbers, they had all merely laughed at her.

"I brought a few friends with me too, if you don't mind." Finally, Noah progresses further into the room, granting access to the doorway for his referenced friend so that once they had begun filtering into the room the wave, it seemed, didn't stop.

Much to Rachel's surprise, she recognizes a handful of Noah's football teammates… There's Matt Rutherford, the relative quiet type that Rachel didn't know much about and Mike Chang, the teen with the reputation for being one of the best dancers in northwestern Ohio, and finally, much to Rachel's surprise, Finn Hudson…

Rachel's heart can't help but to flutter… She knows that Finn is, more likely than not, doing this beneath the will of his best friend, but a part of her can't help but to think, no, wish, that part of the reason that he is choosing to join the glee club has to do with her as well.

The gentle fanning that is currently escaping from her chest however, is solidified quickly, as, following Finn, Quinn Fabray is practically jogging in her effort to catch up with her boyfriend, latching onto his arm tightly in a manner that has Rachel seething; half out of jealousy and half in response to the knowledge that Quinn isn't joining glee for the sake of the club, she's joining because she wants to keep Finn on the shortest possible leash,, watching him closely, untrustworthy of his actions in the presence of Rachel… for whatever reason.

Her attention from the blonde is distracted however by the presence of the final two individuals straggling into the choir room… She isn't surprised by the appearance of Brittney Pierce, nor does she deny that her joining has solely to do with her following Santana, who's following Noah… The two Cheerios came as a packaged unit, and Rachel often joked to her brother that he might as well be dating both of them…

No, more than anything, Santana's presence in itself had shocked Rachel, nothing more so than the quick nod she offered the small girl; Rachel quickly reciprocating the motion in mutual understanding… Her impressions of Santana had been rapidly transforming ever since Friday night, and it seemed, were only continuing to expand.

Rachel counts their latest numbers quickly inside of her head… In accordance with the five members that they had already had, they can now add Noah, Finn, Matt, Mike, Santana, Brittney and Quinn to their repertoire… they had twelve people.

Rachel's breath hitches immediately upwards inside of her throat; they were going to go to Sectionals.

Her heart swells as she turns to face her brother, still standing uncomfortably in the center of the room as his friends shuffled slowly into their self-assigned seats; he's looking pleased with himself, and Rachel can't help but to think that he should as he grins upwards towards her in his solidification of their deal…

She'd never loved her brother more.

They had been hiding behind the veil of silence for their entire lives, and Rachel and Noah knew better than anybody else, the struggles that came with trying to be heard…

Rachel recognized her opening towards greatness; she recognized the pedestal for display, for fame as it stood directly in front of her…

The only thing that she could possibly focus on anymore was the idea that now, maybe, people would finally start to listen.

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><p><strong>Solemnxhypnotic<strong>** – Hahaha, don't be too mad at Puck, he's got a lot of stuff going on! He's in that awkward teenage stage where his reputation is the most important thing for him to uphold, but he'll realize the things that are most important soon, I promise! Thanks so much for the kind words. **

**Beaner008**** – No need to apologize at all, now I get a double review haha! Santana's story line is gonna take a couple different twists and turns so I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! Hope you enjoy, as always thank you for the input!**

**TommyH**** – Thank you! I've got a few ideas in mind for Santana's storyline, not really sure which road I'm gonna go down yet but I'm glad you like it! **

**Crazy-wee-cat**** – Hahaha I'm a sucker for angsty Puck, so he's guaranteed to show up every once in a while out of the blue :) He'll get his redemption moments every time though, don't worry! Thanks for the input, as always!**

**Marinka4**** – Yay! I'm glad you like it, first season Puck is my favorite, but we seem to be the minority hahaha. Thanks for the review. **

**CloudGazer15**** – Hahaha, I love your reviews, they always make my day! Good to see I got you on a bit of a surprise there, there will be more, I promise!**

**Amandaes417**** – Wow, thank you so much, I'm speechless! I fell in love with the idea of them as a family too and figured I'd take a whack at it. Glad you're enjoying so far, thanks for reviewing!**

**Readerforlife**** – Thank you so much! Appreciate the review!**


	12. Rachel Corcoran  October 2011  Part I

**So here's another Rachel chapter for you all… I wasn't really too sure how I wanted to place the next couple of chapters so I've been flipping around a lot lately so bare with me if things get a little crazy, it's why I've been splitting chapters up into more than one part a lot lately… **

**But no worries, part II will be up soon, mostly because writing this story has become like crack to me, I'm loving it and am amazingly generous for all you wonderful people out there. Also, I love responding to all of your reviews, so let me know what you think!**

**Until next time…**

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><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran<strong> – October 2011

_(Part I)_

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><p>"Rachel, come on, keep up!"<p>

The instruction sounds foreign as it is emitted from beyond Will Schuester's lips, so unusually out of place that even he is taken aback, leaving him unable to be completely surprised when the rest of his glee club is thrown off as well, growing quickly out of sync, subsequently destroying any potential forward progress that they could have made in their final rehearsal of the Regionals dance routine that they would be performing in just over twenty four hours now.

And after weeks of flawless rehearsals, the close proximity of their performance was becoming threateningly obvious now that the glee club – particularly its star – couldn't seem to pull themselves together.

They had all but swept the competition at Sectionals, just under a month ago now. They had won easily, and they had won by a landslide.

At the time of their performance in fact, their victory hadn't even been a question, an achievement that had come as a surprise to the New Directions' original five members, in particular, Rachel, especially considering the timing, as well as the specifics regarding how they'd come about having enough members to even perform at Sectionals in the first place…

Rachel had been concerned from the beginning that some of Noah's friends, most specifically, the Cheerio's, had joined the club under false pretenses; 'singing for sabotage' as she had told an unconcerned Mr. Schuester the afternoon following their joining…

She was convinced that they'd wanted nothing more but to screw them all over, but had been unwillingly forced to eat her own words when, in the end, aside from a handful of stray, uncivil moments between her and Quinn Fabray, she found things to have remained generally calm amidst the unorthodox group of singers.

Rachel had found herself lucky in that sense, she knew… Her and Santana had been remaining strictly civil to one another alongside the mutual understandings that plagued the soon to be family, and aside from finding herself being the brunt of the majority of the Latina's famous one-liners – the ones that Rachel knew Santana only threw her way to prevent increasing suspicion – things between the two had remained generally okay…

After all, it has been nearly a month and still, Santana had yet to find herself comfortable enough to confide her secret in anybody else.

Of course, Santana hadn't exactly planned on Rachel finding out about her pregnancy per se, but for Rachel, that was beside the point.

"Jesus Ru Paul, what the hell is the matter with you?" In a typical Santana fashion, the older girl directs her frustrations regarding her team's struggles towards the captain, just as the two collide; Santana's fast paced motions proving no match for Rachel's sluggish dance moves…

Rachel bounces harshly off of Santana's muscular shoulder, toned painfully from all of her years of being the lifter in the cheerleading pyramids, and stumbles backwards with a soft grunt of pain, nearly falling over in the process, had it not been for Finn standing directly behind her, catching her before she could hit the floor entirely.

"You better pull yourself together before tomorrow, Man Hands!" Santana thrusts an angry finger into Rachel's face as she sneers at the smaller girl… Rachel can tell in an instant that Santana wasn't having a particularly good day; she hadn't snapped at Rachel like this since her doctor had failed to offer her an appointment for an ultrasound without parental consent first… "I'm not losing this competition because of you!"

"Hey Santana, why don't you back off," Finn helps Rachel regain her footing before stepping in front of her; as her co-captain, Rachel already knows that it's simply in Finn's nature to stick up for people and to play the peacekeeper, but still, Rachel can't help but to blush as she interprets his actions more personally than she know that she should… She was still trying desperately not to overanalyze the idea that Finn had arrived at glee rehearsal earlier that morning looking rather upset and Quinn still hadn't managed to make an appearance at all…

"Okay people, okay, everyone relax; take a deep breath…" Mr. Schuester throws himself into the center of his squabbling glee club, knowing from experience that his interference was vital in the effort to prevent things from getting physical; especially when it came to Santana. "How about we take five, alright? Everybody let's just calm down, and then we'll try this again."

With a groan of frustration towards their perceived lack of accomplishment thus far, the club begins to disperse in their separate directions, head hung low in the acknowledgment that the seemed to have been clicking so well as a functioning unit up until the day before their biggest competition to date.

"Hey Rachel, can I talk to you for a second?" The teacher calls his captain back to him just as she's turning towards the hallway, eager to get herself at the very least, a few much-needed moment of privacy in order to clear her head.

She had woken up earlier this morning feeling downright terrible, and to say that this had come off as frustrating to her, would have been an understatement.

Rachel never got sick, _never_… she'd barely had so much as a cold since she was a kid, and now, the morning before one of the most important days of her life, not only was she sick, but her illness was manifesting deep inside of her throat, altering her voice in a manner that - no matter how much tea and honey she consumed, or no matter how long she sat in the shower practicing her vocals beneath the steam – she knew would leave her less than a hundred percent for tomorrow.

"Are you feeling okay?" Mr. Schuester asks her immediately, much to Rachel's dismay. "You look awful."

"I'm fine…" Rachel sighs blatantly in her disappointment; she knows that at the very least, she needs to appear to be perfect. She needs to pull herself together; she needs to find a means of being absolutely flawless in time for tomorrow.

"Listen, why don't you sit the rest of rehearsal out," He offers, trying to ignore Rachel's face as it drops horrorstruck towards the mere idea. "You can go to the nurse's office and try to get some rest, or I can even call your mother for you if you'd like, she can take you home to get some sleep…"

"While I appreciate your concern, Mr. Schuester I must insist that that won't be necessary." Rachel informs him sharply in an effort to have him understand that skipping school today, more importantly, skipping rehearsal, simply wasn't an option. "I'm perfectly fine, now if you'll excuse me, I have to use the restroom before we continue rehearsal."

Rachel ducks expertly beneath Mr. Schuester's watchful eyes before he so much has the opportunity to call her back… He's eyeing her with a glint of concern, Rachel knows this; she can practically feel his eyes bearing a hole into the back of her skull, but at the same time, she also knows that she needs to avoid any more opportunities for confrontation that he may have, and right now, that meant getting the hell out of the choir room, and getting out quickly.

She's power walking through the hallways to the nearest bathroom, all the way at the opposite end of the school, but she finds herself quickly out of breath before she's so much as down the length of the hallway… All at once, she is becoming very aware of the idea that her legs feel like Jell-O, her head is spinning, and frankly, she's embarrassed.

The only thing that is pushing her forwards is her motivation to duck into the privacy of the bathroom, to sit within a locked stall with her head between her knees for as long as she has to until this dizzy spell passes, so that finally, she's practically spilling herself into the girl's room, stumbling almost drunkenly, straight into the sink basins oriented in a straight line along the wall.

Her hands grope blindly for the cold water tap, forcefully igniting the faucet below her as she cups her bowled palms beneath the water flow and splashes the collected droplets over her face…

Breathing heavily, she clutches onto the porcelain, hunching forward so that her heaving chest hovers directly above it as splashes of water drip from her chin and perform an impressive freefall straight into the drains below.

Her makeup is running and her hairline is already beginning to frizz in its expressed anger towards becoming wet after all of the hard work that had been put into straightening it earlier, but Rachel doesn't care; the only thing that she can focus on being her breathing as her pants finally slow into slightly labored puffs of air.

She can feel her pulse pounding angrily up the length of her carotid artery, thumping uncomfortably against her neck muscles as she closes her eyes and begins to concentrate on willing her bodily functions back to their normal resting state…

Her senses focus inwards, she's channeling herself on stability, on retreating back to a state of constant homeostasis, and for a little while, she finds it to be actually working…

But then she hears it.

The sound is soft and explicitly sharp; an abrupt, choking sob that is emitted in a manner that tells Rachel that whoever had released it had been trying desperately to hold it in only to fail; exposed in an uncontainable emotional overload.

Rachel swivels her head across her shoulder in a manner that she regrets immediately as her head spins harshly, and through a small moan of pain, she finds herself squinting against the suddenly painful overhead lights in an effort to scan across the bottoms of the bathroom stalls; clearly not as empty as Rachel had previously believed them to be.

She ducks herself down into a low squat as she peers beneath the first stall, directly behind her…

She recognizes the shoes almost instantly; the white and red cheer kicks signify the presence of a Cheerio, the specialized gold soles represent said Cheerio's captaincy status…

"Quinn…" Rachel calls hesitantly to the blonde, "Are… are you okay?" The conversation is awkward and it hasn't even begun yet. Rachel had never spoken with Quinn in such a gentle tone before; more often than not, there's screaming involved every time that they're addressing each other…

But the idea of Quinn crying by herself in the bathroom leaves Rachel with the stark reminder that the blonde never did show up to glee that morning and as captain, Rachel finds herself burning with the moral obligation that she feels like she has to the members of her club… even Quinn.

"I'm fine," The voice is familiar in that it's snapping harshly towards Rachel, but the sniffle that pronounces the end of her sentence exposes the lie for what it truly is.

"You don't sound fine…" Rachel doesn't understand why she's pushing Quinn Fabray of all people to confide in her… The two have never seen eye-to-eye on things, and ever since the day that they'd met, Rachel is certain that neither has had a single nice thing to say in regards to the other… Rachel can't help but to suddenly find herself flashing back to the only fist fight that she had ever been in… against Quinn.

"Will you just go away, Corcoran?" Rachel can't help but notice that the tears behind Quinn's voice are even more obvious through the thin plastic stall in her longer, more punctuated sentence.

"Quinn, you're obviously upset, I can't just leave you here…" Rachel makes the idea that Quinn will not be able to get rid of her as easily as the blonde probably would have like obvious as she stabilizes herself against the row of sinks.

"Why do you care?" Quinn asks her as she rips the bathroom stall open so sharply that Rachel can't help but to jump in her shock… She is standing in the doorway in all her glory, her normally perfect blonde hair frayed and frizzled around the remnants of a tight ponytail, her Cheerio's uniform crumpled and her eyes bloodshot and swollen, streaked with a line of mascara that marks the tear tracks down the length of her cheeks. "We're not friends Rachel, why do you feel the need to pretend as if you actually care?"

"Because we may not be friends but we are teammates," Rachel insists, her eyes narrowing downwards towards Quinn in her determination. "Listen, I know that you have a reputation to uphold around here so that for some reason you have to pretend that you don't like being in glee, and that you're doing this just so you can stay close to Finn, but I know that you decided to stay on this team for this long for a reason as long and as you are, I'm still your captain, so I care because it's my responsibility to care… even if I don't want to."

Rachel is unsure as to what has swelled this sudden outburst of confidence in regards to Quinn Fabray inside of her, and judging by the look that suddenly drawn across Quinn's face in her response, neither does she.

"I have never had a single nice thing to say about you, Rachel…" Quinn tells her, her voice softening slightly as she informs Rachel of this knowledge as if the brunette had had no idea of it…

"Yeah well, that was always pretty one-sided wasn't it?" Rachel spits, years of closeted anger towards Quinn emitting blatantly behind her tone, but she immediately regrets it; Quinn was obviously upset and trying to make her feel badly about her actions right now was doing nothing more other than stooping down to her level, and Rachel knew that that just wasn't her.

"My parents are getting a divorce." That hadn't exactly been the response that Rachel was expecting, but expected or not, it was the one that she got; Quinn bursting in her confession as if she'd been hoarding the information for days, desperate to get it off her chest, no matter who it was that was listening.

"I'm sorry…" Rachel breaths only after a significant silence had already lingered between them, signifying Rachel's struggle to concoct an appropriate response.

"Don't be," Quinn shakes her head softly as, to Rachel's utmost surprise she flashes the young diva the hint of a smile. "My dad's an asshole this has been a long time coming…" The blonde turns her eyes from Rachel's, choosing instead, to stare absentmindedly into the ceiling so that the tears sheathed across her eyes reflected brightly against the fluorescent lighting. "God, I can't believe that out of all of the people at this school, I'm telling this to you first."

Rachel shifts uncomfortably in her silence; she didn't want to be the one to tell Quinn that she was just as shocked by Quinn's revelation as Quinn apparently was.

"Whatever…" Quinn continues rambling to herself so that Rachel isn't even certain whether or not she's still expected to be listening. "Clearly this isn't a very good week for relationships in my family… Finn and I broke up last night too."

This time, Rachel can't help but to react to Quinn's news, a soft gasp escaping from between her just-parted lips as her stomach plunges in a manner that makes her feel as if she's just taken a freefall from the top of a large building.

"And I'm quitting the glee club…" That feeling that Rachel had just retained, that as if she had been walking on air is shattered the second that Quinn's announcement escapes from her mouth. As happy as Rachel was that Finn and Quinn had finally gone their separate ways, she can't help but think that she would have preferred the alternative to putting their glee club's future at risk. "I can't be around Finn anymore, I can't do that… to either of us."

"You can't quit glee, not now!" It was the first bit of input that Rachel had made since Quinn had mysteriously begun spilling all of her secrets to the girl, and now, she was practically yelling at the blonde. "We've come so far Quinn and Regionals are tomorrow! You know that we need twelve people to perform, that there's not nearly enough time to find somebody new to fill in your spot… We'll be disqualified!"

"I'm sorry, Rachel…"

"No!" Rachel shouts so abruptly that Quinn can't help but to recoil. "You have been cowering away from your problems your entire life, Quinn! Joining the glee club is the first thing that you have ever done for yourself and as much as you pretend that you hate it, we all know that that's not true, so why don't you start being honest with yourself; follow yourself just this once!"

Rachel's chest is heaving with the sheer emotion of her words, her vision growing blurry once more although this time; she shoves her dizzy spell to the side so that she can see Quinn's shocked expression as the blonde stands before them in silence, unable to properly adjust to this abrupt change in demeanor by the girl who's life she has been making a living hell for years now.

"You're right…" As if things couldn't get any more unpredictable, Quinn's responding to Rachel's practically yelling at her with something less than a fist to the face has Rachel recoiling in her shock.

"I am?" Rachel asks, mentally cursing herself for her inability to follow up her outburst with something more convincing than questioning herself.

"Yes," Quinn rolls her eyes at Rachel's need for reinforcement towards the idea. "But I'm done with this, Finn…"

"This isn't about Finn, Quinn!" She makes a habit of cutting Quinn off mid-sentence. "You need to start doing things for _you_. Look at yourself, you're miserable… You know what the glee club can do for you; you know that we don't care what you are or who you are… You need us, Quinn… especially now."

"You're obnoxious you do know this, right?" Quinn sighs, waiting for a response that Rachel doesn't give her. "Fine, I won't quit the freaking glee club, alright?"

Quinn groans in her exasperation, throwing her hands upwards into the air in an expression of defeat that leaves Rachel beaming widely as the blonde pushes past her and makes her way towards the bathroom doors, guiding herself back into the halls as Rachel simply continues to linger against the sinks.

"You better not tell anybody about this little conversation we had!" She throws the statement over her shoulder as she rips the bathroom door open.

"I won't…" Rachel sighs; she isn't sure how many more of the Cheerio's deepest, darkest secrets that she can stand to keep for them.

"Good," Quinn nods, lingering in the doorway briefly before turning back towards Rachel once more. "And Rachel… you should know that I'll deny this if it ever gets out, but thank you... for the advice, I mean."

"You're welcome?" Her response comes out as more of a question than she's meant for it to but in her vast confusion towards what the hell had just happened in these past five minutes or so, she can't seem to help it.

At the very least, she finds a comfort in knowing that she will have somebody else to go back into glee rehearsal with, just trying to pretend that everything is alright.

* * *

><p>She'd deemed it safe to conclude that although the first half of their morning glee rehearsal had proven to be nothing short of a disaster, the second had gone much, much smoother.<p>

At the very least, they had fulfilled their twelve member quota with Quinn's return, and Rachel, more aware than ever of her need for perfection had pushed herself to the brink while simultaneously successfully managing to avoid the watchful eyes of her teammates; specifically, her brother and her coach.

But keeping the glee club blissfully ignorant and keeping her mother in the same state of silent naivety, she knew, were two very different things; she had been very much aware of the idea that her acting skills were to be truly put to the test only once she was home…

Thus far, Rachel had considered her efforts to be generally successful; first and foremost, she had begun to feel genuinely better as the day progressed, and most importantly, she'd somehow managed to avoid Shelby for the majority of the evening thus far, successfully keeping low beneath her radar from the safety of her closed bedroom.

It was only after Shelby had called Rachel down for dinner that she knew that it was time to put on her bravest of faces… She had never begged her body to cooperate with her more than she was doing tonight, and that was saying a lot.

Rachel hadn't eaten all day, but still, she couldn't help but to find herself not particularly hungry as she pushed her food uninterested about her plate with her fork, choosing to remain uncharacteristically silent amidst the small talk hovering between the table's occupants; Rachel, Noah and Shelby's new boyfriend, Ryan Foley…

Her mother had met the man a little over a month ago now during her own glee club's Sectional competition… He had been coaching one of the three other teams that had foolishly stepped up against Shelby's Vocal Adrenaline, and as the story goes, fell for her hard, just as his glee club was losing to her own.

Rachel couldn't decide which was weirder; the means by which her mother and Ryan had met, or the idea that come tomorrow, their family's two separate glee clubs would be facing head-to-head; rivals in competition against one another.

"You know Noah, your mother was telling me before that you're also on the football team at your school, I didn't know that…" Rachel almost felt badly for the man, it couldn't, after all, have been easy to have entered into a family with a dynamic such as theirs so abruptly, and she had to give him at least _some_ credit, at least he was trying… "You must be pretty busy, huh? It's not too often that you a kid trying to pull their weight between glee club and football."

He releases a short laugh towards his own joke that quickly fades into thin air when nobody chooses to reciprocate.

"Yeah…" Noah gives the man a short and vague response, his voice harsh, distant… He doesn't like Ryan, Rachel knows that and she's certain that Shelby knows it too, and although Noah has never actually told either of them of this fact upfront, it was obvious…

Rachel has been trying her hardest to remain relatively indifferent on the entire situation, to avoid formulating opinions on the matter at all, but at the same time, she could understand all of the things that her brother was feeling… Their mother hadn't had a boyfriend – one that either of them had known of anyway – since their father had died… As far as Rachel was concerned, Shelby hadn't even so much as been on a date.

Rachel knows that this could simply be a case of blissful ignorance on her part; they didn't discuss Shelby's love life around the house, it was a topic that has since become considered a relative taboo… considering how her last relationship had ended and all.

"Can I be excused, mom?" Noah asks Shelby abruptly only after a deafening silence had fallen around his nonreciprocal answer towards Ryan's question. "I have some work that I need to finish up before Regionals tomorrow."

"Sure Noah…" Shelby's voice sings amidst a slight sigh; Rachel can't help but notice that she doesn't look particularly pleased towards her son's reaction towards Noah, but she knows that to keep him at the dinner table against his will was going to nothing more than to cause an argument that she simply wasn't prepared for; not tonight, anyway.

Shelby had learned how to pick her battles when it came to her son.

He pushes outwards and away from the table slightly more aggressively than was probably necessary, taking his plate with him into the kitchen so that Rachel flinches involuntarily as she hears the glass banging against the sink.

She eyes Shelby carefully; the older woman's face contorted in a permanent frown as she wipes her hands gently across the top of her head in an effort to stabilize her emotions, racing in response to her son's impromptu necessity to destroy what she was hoping would be a pleasant evening.

Looking at her mother now however, Rachel suddenly finds herself having a difficult time believing that the woman was once well on her way to guaranteed Broadway stardom…

Rachel was certain that her mother had been beautiful once, not to that she still wasn't now, but the years and proven difficult for Shelby, her face impossibly marred with years of stress and an overwhelming concern exponentially disproportional to that by which your average human being experiences in a lifetime.

Her eyes were darker now they no longer retained that unique glow that Rachel saw in all of her mother's old headshots… So sure, Rachel knew that Shelby must have been young once, but she was older now… much older.

Rachel can't help but to feel guilty in her appreciation; she's not sure that she would ever find the strength to give up her dreams such as Shelby had done… But then again, she knows that she has simply yet to understand that unconditional willingness to sacrifice in the name of your family…

Her mother is her most consistent hero, and she knows this much; she would be nothing, nowhere without her.

"Do you know what has been going on with your brother lately?" Shelby finally directs the questions towards her daughter only after Noah had effectively stomped into his bedroom.

Rachel swallows hard, eyes lingering nervously across her mother's form… The truth is, she knows exactly what it was that has been going on with her brother lately, she just can't tell Shelby; it simply wasn't an option.

"No," Rachel is terrible at lying when it comes to her mother, she knows this… With anybody else, it wasn't even an issue, being a Broadway actress in training and all… But her mother, well her mother made her nervous, made it so that she hiccupped through every lie in its obviousness… "I think that maybe he's just stressed," Rachel tries to rectify the blatant error she made in addressing Shelby's question just a little bit too quickly, with just a little too much inclination behind her voice. "I mean, he's got school and college stuff going on and then there's Regionals tomorrow, football playoffs are right around the corner and he's got scouts analyzing his every move so… I don't know; I'd be stressed too."

Her decision to conveniently leave out the added stressor of facing a girlfriend that was currently pregnant with his child was blatant, and Rachel could only silently express her gratitude towards the fact that Shelby had chosen to redirect her eye contact from Rachel before she could see the presence of withheld information in the younger girl's e yes.

"You know, Ryan is right though…" Rachel makes an attempt to change the subject casually while simultaneously intercepting the failed start to his attempted conversation, trying to spare the man of at least some of the embarrassment that Noah had left him with via his abrupt exit. "Noah should be pretty proud of all of the hard work that he's been putting into glee lately. Our routine is flawless mom… Vocal Adrenaline better watch themselves tomorrow."

Shelby seems unfazed by her daughter's antics towards re-routing this conversation… She can see the hidden truth behind Rachel's eyes, Rachel knows this, but for once, the girl finds herself actually grateful for Ryan's presence within their family circle because Rachel knows that Shelby wasn't going to push her… not as long as he was around, anyway.

"I wouldn't go as far as to call this a total victory New Directions quite yet, Rach." Rachel can hear her mother's teasing expression but at the same time, Rachel knows that Shelby wasn't about to find herself showing mercy towards the New Directions simply because two of her children were on the team… No, the Corcoran's never backed down; that was simply how they had been raised. "But I want you to remember that no matter what happens tomorrow, I will be very proud of both you and Noah."

Rachel smirks upwards towards the warranted, blatant mom speech; Shelby had been emphasizing this fact to the both of them for weeks now, probably for fear that World War III would erupt between the household should they let the heat of competition grow to thick beneath the roof.

"Speaking of glee, I got an interesting call this afternoon from Will Schuester…" Shelby approaches the confrontation carefully, in a manner that lets Rachel know that she had been planning strategically, a proper transition into this conversation probably all night.

Rachel knows exactly what it is that Shelby is referring to in an instant.

She takes a sharp intake of air in her surprise towards her mother's statement, the soreness of her throat catching up against the inner membranes, swollen in her illness in a manner that leaves her coughing harshly, choking on the sudden, unexpected motion…

Her eyes are blurred over with a thin layer of naturally produced tears as her lungs struggle to intake enough oxygen to sustain her… She feels herself growing dizzy just as Ryan Foley, of all people, begins slapping desperately at her back under the false pretenses that she's choking on her dinner…

She can feel her face turning beat red as she slowly manages to contain her aching chest, just in time to watch her mother's face turn down with concern; that wasn't exactly the best means by which to go about arguing her case…

"You… you talked to Mr. Schuester?" She manages as Shelby hands her a glass of water that she accepts, but doesn't sip from…

"Yes, I talked to Mr. Schuester, and he was right to call me…" Shelby eyes her daughter with an expression that only a mother could manage, making the guilt surge instantly up the length of Rachel's spine. "You need to tell me when you're not feeling well Rachel, you know that."

It was a rare moment of weakness that Rachel identified immediately in the concern seeping out of her mother's voice; the woman couldn't help but to retain her stronghold when it came down to Rachel's health; history, after all, was consistently riding against them.

The foolish belief that she had actually been deceiving her mother in regards to her health shatters in an instant… She knows that she should have known better, but she can't help to be frustrated; she thought that she had been doing so well…

But then again, she had thought that she had been doing well when she had been hiding the fact that she had gotten drunk at a party that Noah had hosted in their own home too… Both her and Noah were still being punished for that fluke…

"It's nothing," Rachel responds sharply, "I have a cold mom, plus I'm run down from glee, that's all…"

It wasn't exactly a lie but still, Rachel couldn't help but to catch the skeptical glances that Shelby had since taken to flashing her through the corners of her eyes; strategically positioned in an effort to avoid Shelby's.

"People get sick mom, it happens. You don't have to automatically think of cancer just because I come down with a sniffle, you know! I didn't tell you because I knew that you would freak out, just like this!" Even Rachel is shocked by the words that are coming out of her mouth; she isn't particularly sure where this sudden desire to constantly express herself was coming from, but she had a feeling that it was time to once again, tuck it away.

To her left, she could see Ryan fidgeting uncomfortably with his fingers… Rachel is suddenly very much aware of the probability that Shelby had yet to mention their family's history…

"That's not fair, Rachel." Shelby tells her so that Rachel can' t help but to immediately hang her head; she is already very much so aware of this. "You know that I wouldn't be worried unless I had every reason to be…"

"That's not true…" Rachel makes an attempt to lighten the air in the room with a small smirk and the reminder that Shelby was _always_ worried… But Shelby doesn't seem to reciprocate the humor, and Rachel's face falls back down almost immediately.

"I think that it would be worth a trip to see Dr. McCarthy, Rach… That nephrologist told us to keep an eye out for any changes…" Shelby references back to Rachel's primary oncologist, the one that Shelby had a tendency to whisk Rachel away to every time the girl so much as came down with a sniffle…

Rachel can't help but to recall an incident when she was eight in which Shelby had brought her to the man's office upon noticing that Rachel had been having a difficult time walking, complaining that her feet were hurting her in a manner that Shelby had immediately associated with the joint aches of leukemia only to have Dr. McCarthy assure her that Rachel simply needed a new pair of shoes, having outgrown her old ones by nearly two full sizes.

Her mother refuses to take risks when it came to her children; she knows that waiting until it was too late simply wasn't an option for them.

"He also told us that there was nothing wrong!" Rachel insists, with perhaps, a slightly harsher tone than what she should have taken with her mother, but she couldn't help herself, she was tired of being dragged from doctor to doctor, hospital to hospital for no reason whatsoever.

"No, he told us that while the tests didn't find anything specifically wrong, kidney dysfunction is also difficult to detect in its early stages." Shelby corrects her daughter's paraphrased statement, altered greatly in an effort for Rachel to allow it to more greatly benefit her favor… the way her mother had stated didn't make it sound nearly as promising. "I'm making an appointment with Dr. McCarthy."

"Fine," Rachel rolls her eyes, identifying no means by which to avoid what Rachel believes to be an unwarranted trip. Rachel had been produced, a genetic clone of her mother, which subsequently included Shelby's inherent stubbornness… The only difference was that the older woman tended to have an advantage when it came to final decisions and Rachel possessed the capacity to identify a lost battle when she saw one.

There is no fighting the Corcoran family dynamic, Rachel knows this; her family, after all, were professionals in confrontation, in anticipation, in waiting for the worst to swoop in and strike them once more…

Experience tells them to be prepared for it. Science, on the other hand, tells them to expect it.

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><p>"<em>Mrs. Corcoran, may I speak with you in the hallway for a second?"<em>

_ Rachel shivers involuntarily as a sudden burst of frozen air turns her blood into ice, freezing as she sits atop the cool examination table inside the private office of her life-long oncologist wearing nothing more than a thin cloth gown, the sterile paper beneath her crinkling as she shifts uncomfortably in response to her doctor's expressions of concern._

_ "Of course," Shelby nods her head nervously, her eyes darting rapidly between her daughter and Dr. McCarthy as he requests for her to step away from the girl that she can tell, so desperately wishes not to be left alone, "Rachel will you be okay by yourself for a minute or two?"_

_ Rachel nods but stubbornly refuses to open her mouth out of fear that an involuntary, choking sob would tell Shelby the truth…_

_ She was eleven years old now; too old in a sense, to even have her mother so much as present when she was with her doctor, let alone to be begging for her company. _

_ This lifestyle was routine, she knows that she should be well adjusted to it by now. Rachel had been required at least twice annual visits to Dr. McCarthy since she was four years old in an effort to ensure that her white blood cell count remained strictly obedient in their efforts to procure normal proliferation… But still, the pretenses that these visits were held under, the potential that they carried of flipping all of their lives around on their heads in the time that it takes to pull your mother out into the hallway made her nervous; they made them all nervous. _

_ "Okay," Shelby nods towards her daughter confidently, offering the girl an assuring smile that Rachel just can't seem to reciprocate. "I'll be right back."_

_The doctor leans propped against the large wooden door, holding it open politely for Shelby to walk through in a silent gesture that guides her straight into the hallway._

_ He offers Rachel no more than a soft reassurance that they will move quickly and an empathetic smile that leaves the hidden dangers of the truth transparent across his face as he releases the door, allowing it to swing closed on its own accord…_

_ But the wooden panel proves to be too heavy; just as Dr. McCarthy is propping himself upright against the wall, directly across from her mother, it bounces stiffly against its frame, the latch refusing to click in its correct manner so that the door bounces backwards, open but a crack just enough to allow the soft sounds of the bustling doctor's office to escape into the private room, narrowing straight back into Rachel's alert ears._

_The young girl's body constricts with anticipation, goosebumps formulating in a thin layer across her skin, stretched so tight that they quickly begin to pain her._

_ Not for the first time, and she was certain, not for the last, Rachel finds herself wishing for a strength, wishing for something, anything that could keep her from being so impossibly afraid all of the time…_

_ She wishes that she could be as strong as her brother, who refused to let anybody push him, or his family around. She wishes that she could be as strong as her mother, who only allows herself to cry when she thinks that nobody else is watching…_

_ But Rachel is inherently weak; she knows this, and the physical proof is embedded deep inside of her faulty genetics… Had she been born in the primitive ages, her gene pool would have been annihilated before she could so much as escape her toddler years – natural selection at its finest._

"_Shelby, I just received the results of Rachel's lab work…" The doctor eliminates formalities the second that he believes himself to be tucked safely behind the veil of privacy; their family had known the man for years, there was simply no reason for it, "And there were some abnormalities… specifically in her lymphocyte counts and blast percentages."_

_ At eleven, Rachel knows that she should not be able to make heads or tails of Dr. McCarthy's statement; words like lymphocytes and blast percentages shouldn't even be a thought in her vocabulary until, at the very least, high school biology, maybe even college… But experience has already allowed Rachel to excel in the biological sciences, her particular specialty being in regards to the haematopoietic process… _

_She knows what it means when blood work returns only to display an abnormal lymphocyte count. She knows what it means to be teetering on the verge of a blast crisis… In fact, she knows exactly what it means._

"_What kind of abnormalities?" Rachel can hear her mother's voice shaking and suddenly, she understands why it was that Dr. McCarthy had requested her presence in the hallway before he had dropped his bomb on the unsuspecting family… He had wanted to give Shelby the opportunity to react emotionally, to release herself outwardly and subsequently, contain herself before they'd break the news to Rachel; Dr. McCarthy knows that Rachel's stability correlates directly to that of her mother's. _

_ "I can't be certain yet." The doctor explains calmly, trying effortlessly to convince Shelby not to expect the worst case scenario just yet; Rachel wonders if he knows that she shouldn't bother holding his breath. "I would like to admit her into Lima Memorial as soon as possible however just to run some more tests…"_

_In her past life, Rachel can't help but think, she must have done something particularly terrible to have deserved this._

_And who knows… maybe she does._

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><p><strong>Readerforlife<strong>** – Wow, thank you so much. I'm honored!**

**Ballerina03**** – Thank you so much! That's perfect because I love writing really angsty things hahaha. I'm dedicated to this story, I'm giving you my word that I'll finish it right now! The entire thing is already planned out too so now it's just a matter of putting the ideas down. I've got lots and lots of angst headed your way. Thanks for the rewview!**

**CloudGazer15**** – A million thank you's as always! I figured it was time to throw in some sweet Puck in there, people were starting to get upset hahaha. Oh yeah, Rachel got real emotional real quickly but she definitely was within reason. Glad you enjoyed!**

**TommyH**** – Thank you, thank you as always! I've got a truckload of more angst headed in your direction so I'm glad you're enjoying it. **

**Solemnxhypnotic**** – Oh, you're very welcome, I'm just glad that I'm not the only one that gets into things like this hahaha. I promise you a Cheerio's redemption, I'm obsessed with their characters but had to make them sound like bitches for at least the first couple of chapters :) Glad you liked it, thanks for the review!**

**Crazy-wee-cat**** – Aww, yay thank you! I'm glad you're liking the flashbacks, I tend to get a little too excited writing them so I planned for a bunch more in the future. I figured we were overdue for a sweet Puck moment, glad you liked it!**


	13. Rachel Corcoran October 2011 Part II

**As shocking as this might be, I actually don't have much to say with this one, I have been rendered speechless by all of you guys' awesomeness! **

**But of course, as always, thank you for everything and I hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran<strong> – October 2011

_(Part II)_

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><p>"Rachel, where are you going?"<p>

Her discomfort was swelling rapidly amidst the silence that had since befallen across what had quickly become the single most awkward dinner engagement of Rachel's life; Rachel's silent testament towards her reluctant idea that Shelby had won this argument…

It wasn't exactly a secret that Rachel was a notorious sore loser.

"I have to go to the bathroom…" Rachel insists as she steps abruptly away from the table without so much as a word… She was hoping that Shelby would simply understand that Rachel now required a moment or two to breathe. "What, do you wanna come?"

"Rachel!" Shelby reacts to Rachel's uncharacteristic rudeness in the manner that Rachel knew she would but the girl simply ignores her despite the fact that she is well aware that she will pay for her actions later.

But for now, she just wants to get away from this situation while she still can. See, in this family, uncomfortable conversation went one of two ways; either they would bite their tongues and refuse to say what they knew they should, or they would let themselves go completely, only to say all of the things that they knew they shouldn't.

Either way it was not a scenario that Rachel wanted to see herself engaging in tonight… She simply has too much else to consider right now; she has Regionals to consider, she has a competition that she has no other choice but to win.

Her chest is heaving as she rounds onto the top landing of the stairs, the room spinning slightly before her as she tucks herself safely around the corner and out of sight, hiding strategically before her mother could watch her legs give out from underneath her…

She's tired of feeling like this, and in her defiance, she forces herself forwards, travelling down the length of the hallway with every intention of rounding into the bathroom as she had told her mother that she was doing until she finds herself distracted, unconsciously approaching Noah's bedroom as she hears his voice drifting from beyond it, out into the hallway…

"Dude, Finn don't worry about it man, Quinn was a bitch anyway…" Rachel rolls her eyes at her brother's crude word choice as she approaches his door and knocks gently against the wooden frame.

"Alright, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" He relays his apologies as his eyes snap forwards to identify the intrusion. "Listen man, can I call you back in a minute or two?" He offers Rachel a quick, silent not of his head, indicating that it was safe for her to enter. "Yeah… yeah I will dude, I just gotta take care of some shit real quick."

He doesn't say goodbye before he hangs up the phone; a terrible habit that Rachel knows for a fact, he'd picked up from their father right before the man had died… It was one that Noah could just never seem to be able to kick, and for Rachel, it was a pet peeve that she simply chose not to mention, knowing full well that it would merely raise more hell than what she was ever willing to deal with.

"I heard you and mom fighting?" Noah grins feebly in an effort to help her feel better about this whole situation although she can't say that it helped much… "What do you think; you're me now or something?"

It hadn't been very long ago that Noah used to confide in Rachel, the theory that he had been switched at birth. For the longest time, he had been truly convinced of the fact that he had born into a family of rock stars – like the long lost Osbourne child – or at the very least, some trashy reality television family…

Him and Rachel had been so different on the outside, he used to tell her, that there was no way that the two could have possibly come from the same womb…

It took him longer than it had her to realize that while their exterior impressions were profoundly different from one another's, what they'd had on the inside was remarkably similar; both were born outsiders, wondering how it was possible for them to have ever been placed in the lives that they had…

"Was it that bad?" Rachel cringes; she doesn't like to believe herself to possess the capacity to become heated enough to allow her argument to carry across the entirety of their home.

"I've had worse…" He shrugs, and although she knows this fact to be accurate, she also realizes that that's truly not saying much at all.

Rachel can suddenly remember the day that Noah had finally approached her, telling her that he was done looking for his so-called "real" family, that he had finally come to the understanding that he had been stuck with the right people after all…

When Rachel had asked him how it was that he had come to this conclusion, Noah had merely told her that he had finally realized that when two parents had a child, those parents would clutch onto that baby and truly believe that they knew from the very beginning how that child would grow up, where he was going to end up, how he was going to be… More specifically, he realized that those parents were more often than not, completely wrong.

He had told her that he knew that him and Rachel were one in the same after all, because while he had just been figuring this law of parenthood out for himself now, Rachel had already known it… the only difference was that she had figured it out long before he ever had.

"I hate to say it Rach, but she's kind of right you know…"

"Not you too…" Rachel disapproval towards her brother's words reconnects her quickly with reality… Of all of the people that she had believed herself to be able to rally for her argument, she at the very least, thought she would have Noah… After all, she _always_ had Noah. "I thought that you would have my side with this one, Noah."

"This isn't about choosing sides, Rach," He insists and Rachel hates to admit it, but she knows just as much as the rest of them do that her brother has a point. "Yeah, it sucks that you have to watch out for yourself more than the rest of us do but at this point it's common sense, you know?"

Rachel can't help but to roll her eyes towards her brother's words… she's past the point of common sense when it comes to these types of conditions, she's past the point of consciously recognizing the exact instance in time when things start to go sour simply because she is just so determined to remain ignorant.

It hadn't been a conscious development on her part; she hadn't meant to allow her dream state to be constantly clouding her present, but in her bid for perfection, she couldn't help but to realize that the only capacity that it possessed was the tendency to bring her hell…

By now, she considered herself to be death proof; no matter how dangers that that ideal could become.

"What about you?" Rachel shoots back defensively, "I'm not the only one that made a scene at dinner tonight, you know."

"That's completely different," Noah has a sly grin written across his face that only makes Rachel feel heated all over again; she just wants somebody to see things her way for a change… She's tired of people looking at her as merely being Noah Corcoran's little sister, the kid whose childhood had been nothing more than a living hell, that girl that people believed themselves to have to walk eggshells across, simply so that she wouldn't crack. "Ryan's a dick."

"You just think that he's a dick because he's dating mom." Rachel points out the obvious.

"So?" Noah merely shrugs as if there were no other reason warranted for him to classify a person as being on his shit list.

"So…" Rachel's comeback is formulated against her lips but she already knows that it will only get her nowhere… She's backing down before she even has the opportunity to begin, "Never mind."

Her shoulders are hunched in her defeat; she recognizes a lost cause when she sees one, forcing her to retreat upon her initial topic of conversation… Her head has begun to swirl around her all over again as her blood pressure steadily begins to rise in her frustrations…

She's well aware of the fact that if her blatant illness hadn't been obvious before, it was definitely becoming obvious now, and its physical manifestations were doing absolutely nothing to plead her case.

"So I guess that you heard that Finn and Quinn broke up today then…" Rachel sits herself down against the foot of Noah's bed, trying to be casual about the idea that she had suddenly believed herself to have to sit down before she fell down as she changes the topic of conversation.

"Yeah, I've been stuck on best friend patrol all day, I've been doing damage control with Finn this morning," Noah seems distracted from Quinn's appearance as he sits at his desk chair, concentrating on throwing a tennis ball rhythmically up and down against the air; Rachel has never been more grateful for her brother's ADD. "How did you find out?"

"Uh… Quinn told me actually." Rachel speaks hesitantly as she thinks of the promise that she had made to the blonde Cheerio earlier that morning not to tell a soul about the conversation that they had had inside of their high school bathroom.

"Quinn?" Noah shoots his sister a skeptical look, the airborne tennis ball missing its intended target of her brother's hand in his distraction so that it falls to the floor with a gentle thud, where it rolls carefully away from him and lodges itself beneath his bed in much the same manner as Rachel wishes she could at the moment. "Like Quinn Fabray, Quinn?"

"Believe it or not…" Rachel confirms gently.

"I thought that you two hated each other…" Rachel merely shrugs; she's unable to come up with an explanation that can better describe the interaction between her and Quinn earlier that morning; she still has no idea about it herself. "You know, I always had my suspicions that she secretly liked you this entire time… Her and all of the Cheerio's really, even Santana."

Noah's words were meant to convey a sense of joking towards her brother's insistencies that her and Santana had always secretly gotten along… It was an idea that Rachel obviously, could never reciprocate. Hell, they didn't even get along now; they just possessed the mutual understanding of decency simply because they were suddenly finding themselves hoarding each other's secrets…

"Yeah well speaking of suspicions and Santana Noah, I think that mom is starting to get suspicious of you."

Her face drains of what little color had been left within it to begin with as in her subconscious forgetfulness towards the idea that Noah wasn't aware of everything she was, her words spill from her mouth without them particularly meaning to.

"What are you talking about?" He is genuinely confused; an emphasized mark of his continued ignorance towards her awareness… She's already making a mental note to smack herself upside the head for her stupidity as she begins struggling for a means by which to cover up her mental slipup.

"Okay… you can't get mad at me, alright?" She gives him fair warning but he simply eyes her more carefully than ever; she should have known that she would have never been able to start a sentence like that and not have her brother react to it…

She can see the gears churning inside of his eyes; Noah mentally preparing himself to keep his temper under control before he so much as knows what it is that his little sister has to say for herself.

"I know that Santana is pregnant."

He is genuinely taken aback by Rachel's statement, physically reeling in the sheer unexpectedness of it all… Of all of the things that he had been expecting to hear from her, that had definitely not been one of them.

He shoots upwards and off of the desk chair silently, not a word exchanged between the two of them as he makes his way towards his bedroom door and closes the broken wood carefully, taking it a step further even by jimmying a flathead screwdriver between the door and its frame; a homemade locking mechanism that he had established for moments such as this one, in which he required the utmost privacy.

Her brother was a genius, Rachel had always been certain of that… The problem was that the miraculous concept of his skills was often overshadowed to the general public by the controversial practical aspects regarding his motives for performance…

For example, the only reason that he had ever actually learned that by simply shoving a piece of metal into his bedroom door he could turn it into an impenetrable fortress was so that he could drink homemade moonshine and smoke weed out of his back window in private when he had been younger… who knew, maybe even still today.

Now he was using it to hold a private conversation with his sister regarding the reason that she knew that his girlfriend was pregnant when he hadn't even told her about it.

"How?" His eyes looked alarmed, fearful for her answer, "Did someone from glee tell you? Is there a rumor going around the school? Oh God, does mom know?" His face falls with each progressive scenario, each one seeming worse than the last.

"No Noah, no… it was nothing like that." She insists quickly, only after her brother's breathing had already increased, his face turning beat red in his panic… Her revelation relaxes him but it's only to a varying degree… In her sense of normal, she's the one that gets to pretend that Noah can fix all of the things that she can't, but today, it looked as if those roles were about to be reversed.

She should have known that when it came to this family, normal didn't often linger.

She suddenly realizes the idea that the weeks posses their own capacity to develop an increasing rhythm of their own… Sundays are often marked as being naturally lazy, Monday's draining, Tuesdays dull… By Friday, the pressures of the previous days can only gather into an explosion, ignited by your mother bringing her boyfriend to meet her children for the first time and spread by your brother realizing that his secret wasn't nearly as contained as he had previously believed.

"I heard you and Santana talking, Noah… that night of the party." Rachel sighs before she cocks her head over towards the door, where the screwdriver is still pointing safely towards them. "Maybe you should have locked yourself in that night too."

He chooses not to reciprocate her efforts to lighten the mood; she can't tell whether or not he's mad at her but either way, her face falls all the same.

"Santana knows that I know." Rachel continues, her voice deepening with the understanding that Noah didn't want humor right now, he wanted the truth. "I just… we didn't want you to be mad so we… we decided not to tell you."

"_We_?" In a remarkably quick change of events, Noah looks almost humored by Rachel's reference towards her and Santana's teamwork. "I thought that Santana had been acting weird around you lately… But nobody else knows, right? And when I say nobody, I mean absolutely nobody… mom, specifically."

"Nobody knows," Rachel insists quickly, but then, a sudden thought enters into her mind; suddenly, she wonders whether or not Noah even has any intentions on ever making his involvement with Santana's pregnancy public knowledge. "But Noah, do you… I mean, do you plan on telling mom?"

"I have to eventually…" He shudders with the mere idea. "I can't just show up to our house one day with a kid, you know."

"You're keeping it…" Rachel's surprise emits as a hushed hiccup; she hadn't intended on sounding so shocked.

"Yeah," Noah provides his answer with a short nod, but Rachel can't help but notice that his voice is soft, uncertain. "Me and Santana talked about it and we agreed… But Rachel, you have to promise me that you'll keep this from mom. It'll just be for a little while longer, okay?"

There is a thin layer of nervous sweat lingering across the width of her brother's short hairline; Rachel can't help but to wonder how many more days that he would be able to sweat out excuses before his heart before straight through his chest.

"I promise."

In general, Rachel doesn't often worry about her older brother… Yeah sure, he had a tendency to get spun around every now and then, but then again, didn't we all? She simply doesn't understand why nobody else can see that Noah Corcoran was the type of boy that would one day be known for stopping the world and starting his own.

"Maybe… maybe I can help you take care of the baby…" She suggests the offer with a small shrug of her shoulders, but she can tell in an instant that her brother is not fond of the idea.

"No," He doesn't hesitate. "This is my problem Rachel, not yours… You've got your big dreams that you have to concentrate on."

"What about your dreams?" She turns to him seriously, silently conveying that just because he's having a child doesn't mean that he has to give up absolutely everything that he had worked so hard to get… She knows that he knows that he can only become a star if first; he can see himself being one.

"Don't worry about me," He reminds her that he already knows that she never does. "I'll be okay, but you… you don't need all of that extra stress in your life. And speaking of stress, you're not looking too hot there, are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I wish people would stop asking me that…" She releases an audible groan; if she heard that question being directed towards her one more time today, she was going to snap.

"Get used to it kid," He tells her, "That's what happens when you're the baby of the family."

"I won't be for long…" Rachel smirks with the recognition that in the very near future, she will find herself no longer marred with the label of being the youngest and Noah returns the expression dreary eyed… Somehow, despite all of the odds, they still manage to believe that miracles can still happen; and they do.

"Okay, I guess I should go back downstairs…" Rachel sighs only upon allowing their comfortable silence to linger for an extra moment or two. "I told mom that I was only going to the bathroom… don't want her to come up here looking for answers now, do we?"

"Yeah, I guess not…" Noah agrees with her audible but he sounds disappointed as he watches her remove the screwdriver embedded deep within the doorframe to open the door… But Rachel is at least satisfied to know that there is a visible relief towards the idea that Noah had finally gotten at least a portion of his secret off of his chest… He's been sitting too long in his silence for his entire life; they both know that.

Rachel smiles in her goodbye before she turns into the hallway, closing the door behind her so that she leaves her brother in the dark, simply wondering if it will ever be possible for all of his good faith, for all of his loyalty to receive the award that it finally deserves in finally allowing his eyes to see beyond the veil of the present.

But contrary to what she had just informed her brother, she chooses not to turn to go back downstairs in the immediate… Suddenly, now that the adrenaline-fueled rush of informing Noah of the truth was fading rapidly from her system, she was becoming very much so aware, once more, of the pounding that was currently lingering between her temples, the uncomfortable pulse building steadily across the length of her forehead, even worse than it had been before.

She slips into the bathroom behind a cloak of silence, locking the door behind her. She knows that there is something wrong the second that she stops moving but her eyes perceive the world as if she still is, rendering her impossibly dizzy…

She can feel her body manifesting a multitude of physical entities all screaming at her to slow down, to address her problems and to stop pretending that there was nothing wrong, but she continues to refuse; for her, that wasn't so easy after all; caving in.

Rachel props herself upwards against the bathroom sink; experience has since told her that simply waiting for this to pass might actually be enough, and then, after a moment or two to collect herself, she would be able to plaster on her brave face, walk back downstairs towards her mother and Ryan, and pretend once more that everything was fine… for a little while anyway.

Her eyes slide closed on their own accord as she clutches firmer onto the porcelain sink basin, struggling to imagine herself being anywhere but here… In a series of slow, steadying deep breaths, her own voice suddenly appears in the back of her head, speaking soothingly, yet unconvincingly as it tells her that everything was going to be fine…

Of course, it doesn't help that said voice is countered by her throbbing head, the heat flushing relentlessly against her face.

She tries to open her eyes, tries to force herself back into reality but the second that she actually does, she regrets it almost immediately… Before her, she sees nothing but a solid sheath of white, the brightness of her tainted vision burning at her head in a flash of pain that literally wraps itself around her very brain, squeezing it to the point that she truly believes herself to be actually dying…

She can no longer render herself responsible for being aware of any concept of life that is surrounding her other than the pain… She barely registers her desire for her mother, her mouth releasing subconscious groans of agony, her legs buckling underneath the pressure building up slowly within her skull…

She only vaguely registers the fact that her senses are slowly shutting themselves off in their bid to reset entirely; the picture of a solid white board fading into duller and duller shades of grey until finally, the only thing that she could see anymore is a solid sheathe of pure black.

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><p><em>Her mother's foot has been tapping a steady, cut time cadence against her hospital room's linoleum flooring for over an hour now and it is steadily driving Rachel to the brink of insanity.<em>

_ Her head is fogged impossibly; a haze of morphine dripping steadily through her veins to the point that she can no longer so much as see straight although no amounts of the heavy drug can seem to numb the pain that is currently radiating within the very depths of her pelvis; a lingering reminder of the bone marrow aspiration that her and her mother were currently awaiting the results of; the confirmation towards whether or not their lives were about to take a sudden turn for the worse._

_ The thumping of Shelby's shoes pound gently alongside the steady pulse that is lingering within her temples. It has begun to give the young child an agonizing headache but still, Rachel refuses to speak… Her mother is a nervous wreck right now, Rachel knows this…_

_She half wants to suggest hooking Shelby up to an IV of her own, if that's what it will take to calm her down._

_Rachel quickly finds herself unsure as to why she had previously believed that the presence of a mere doctor, after hours of waiting, would have ever relaxed her… If anything, the results of the battery of tests that Rachel had been put through following her abrupt exit from what had begun as a routine trip to her doctor's office now lingering threateningly over her head was simply making things worse._

_ "I have some good news for you and I have some bad…" This was how Dr. McCarthy had chosen to address the small, overwhelmed duo after hours of waiting, of expecting the worst…_

_ She isn't sure whether or not this is supposed to make her feel better, but just for the record, it doesn't; Rachel hated that expression, she always had; it was, after all, all the same to her… Bad news was bad news and no matter how much everybody would attempt to enforce the sense that everything was going to be alright in the end, it always looked to her, downright bleak._

_ "The bone marrow biopsy shows that while Rachel's blast percentage is indeed slightly elevated, at the same time, she's not entirely out of the normal range just yet…"_

_ "So she hasn't relapsed?" Shelby's voice sounds hopeful but at the time Rachel can tell that she's trying as hard as possible not to clutch onto such hope… She knows as well as the rest of them do that things simply aren't as black and white as one might like to believe._

_ "Not clinically…" Shelby and Rachel eye the doctor nervously. They aren't exactly certain the context behind his morbid mysteriousness, but they are certain that they weren't particularly enjoying it._

_ "Not clinically… what does that mean, not clinically?" Shelby's hand darts subconsciously out from beneath her and wraps itself around Rachel's own… There is a distinct heat that is radiating upwards from her palm that tells Rachel that Shelby is currently wondering whether or not she has already used up her miracle on Rachel, and if so, whether it's possible for her to pass it along once more._

_ "It means that when we looked a little bit more carefully into Rachel's blood work and analyzed her entire genetic karyotype, we saw that Rachel has a genetic translocation between her 9__th__ and her 22__nd__ chromosomes; it's known as the Philadelphia Chromosome." He speaks not for the first time and certainly not for the last as if each occupant of the room had attended medical school as opposed to merely one of them. "Basically what happens is that the two chromosomes swap genetic makeup with each other. It's a common abnormality seen in leukemias, most often chronic leukemias although it's not completely unheard of in acute cases."_

_ "So what are you saying… that Rachel relapsing is inevitable?" Shelby's face is riddled with confusion but Rachel knows that if she can understand what this means than certainly her mother can too…_

_In fact, Rachel is under the distinct impression that while Shelby understands, she simply just doesn't want to believe that relapse is no longer a concern, but a promise. _

"_I'm saying that at the moment, while Rachel isn't within the means of a full-blown clinical relapse, she is in what is known as molecular relapse." The words slip off of the doctor's tongue so smoothly that Rachel can't help but to shudder. She wonders whether or not Dr. McCarthy is aware of the implications that his words have, or if he has simply since become a master at controlling his expressed emotions._

_ Rachel was willing to bet on the latter. _

_ "So what's the difference exactly?" Shelby is trying to hold onto hope while Rachel on the other hand doesn't have the strength to even bother._

_ "The difference is that Rachel isn't presenting with clinical symptoms… yet." Dr. McCarthy is specific about ensuring that while said symptoms aren't rearing their ugly head just yet, they aren't very far behind. "The problem that's going to present itself now is whether or not we can control the molecular complications before the clinical symptoms do emerge."_

"_Okay, so how do we do that?" Shelby sounds desperate, as if she's willing to do absolutely anything to make this happen; Rachel bites her tongue against reminding her that it's Rachel who will be suffering the consequences that absolutely anything could bring, not her… It takes her only seconds to realize that these thoughts are not particularly true. "Does she need to do chemotherapy again, radiation… another stem cell transplant?"_

_Rachel's heart constricts with fear; she doesn't remember much from the original inception of her illness, but she does have a vague memory of Dr. McCarthy talking with her mother and father while she was four years old and rendered nearly incapacitated from the previous rounds of chemotherapy and radiation that had prepared her for her first stem cell transplant… From her understanding of what he had told them, once that transfusion had been complete, the chances of a similar treatment ever being effective again in the event of relapse was slim to none._

_For a brief second, Rachel wonders why they should even bother before she forces the thought from her mind; she isn't going down without a fight… she couldn't._

"_Nothing like that no," Rachel releases a breath that she hadn't even realized that she had been holding. "She's not in the midst of a blast crisis quite yet, Shelby, right now our biggest concern is trying to get those specific genes to unravel from each other and get back to the way that they're supposed to be… Now, there's a relatively new drug out there called imatinib; it's a tyrosine kinase inhibitor that has shown to have some success in reversing these specific translocations thus far."_

_ "And if it doesn't work?" They speak to one another as if Rachel is not even in the room and all at once, Rachel finds herself struggling to keep up._

_ "Then she will relapse entirely." Dr. McCarthy was never one to beat around the bush; instead, he tells her everything that she needs to know with little to no hesitation whatsoever._

_ "What are the chances of that happening?" Shelby is attempting to pull every gritty detail out of the doctor; she wants statistics, facts; she knows as well as the rest of them do that relapsed cancers have a tendency to fare worse than their original cases… especially when dirty genetics get involved. Shelby simply wants to prepare herself for the event of things not exactly going to plan; just as they usually did. _

_ "Shelby…" Dr. McCarthy has that tone; it's formal and much too doctor-y for a man that has been this family's outlet for the past eight years. Rachel knows him well enough to know that this means that the news that they may not particularly enjoy hearing is about to come. "I think that it would be best for us to prepare for the worst possible scenario."_

_The silence that befalls them is deafening and Rachel can't help but wonder whether or not doctors learn the art of creating dramatic tension while they're in medical school…_

_ She has a semi-amusing image of her in her college years prancing about one of dream performing arts universities of choice – NYADA or Julliard or the Boston Conservatory – only to be sharing half a classroom with people adorned in scrubs before the translucent smile is erased from her face with the reminder that her college years may be ones that she never gets the opportunity to see. _

"_I would like to keep her here for the next couple of nights so that we can monitor her initial progress on the Imatinib…" Rachel blinks and her doctor is already lingering in the doorway. She realizes that she had managed to get lost inside of her daydream; she just wishes that her disconnection with reality could have lasted longer. "After that, pending how she fares, we'll send her home."_

_ Rachel is fuming; she had left school earlier that morning under the expectations that she would merely be missing a class or two for the sake of a routine doctor's appointment… She wasn't supposed to be spending the next couple of days being monitored inside of a hospital…_

_ "Shelby, if you don't mind stopping by my office real quick," The doctor nods towards the mother whose hand automatically tightens around her daughter's hand with the prospect of leaving her behind. "We'll get Rachel officially admitted and I'll need you to sign a couple of consent forms before we can get her prescription approved…"_

_ "Right…" Shelby nods, but her voice is stuttering, scared… She turns towards Rachel, offers her daughter a comforting smile, but Rachel can see that the woman's eyes are red from her attempts to hold back her tears; her face is pale, frightened, older…_

_ "Try and get some sleep, honey…" Shelby brushes a smooth hand across the top of Rachel's head, trying desperately to assure the girl that everything was going to be okay, but at the same time, Rachel can't help but wonder how it was possible for Shelby to even assume that Rachel could currently posses the capacity to achieve sleep; even with the majority of the composition of her blood currently consisting of morphine. "I'll be back soon."_

_ Biting her tongue, Rachel simply nods as she leans into her mother's touch, the woman offering her a lingering kiss against the girl's forehead that she freezes in time only temporarily…_

_The second that her mother leaves the room, Rachel capitalizes because she knows that right now is the perfect, if not the only opportunity that she will have to cry._

_ The tears begin to well quickly, full and thick behind her eyelids so that the liquid catches each glare of light against her oversensitive retinas… Through the corners of her eyes, she notices Shelby's abandoned cell phone blinking frantically against the bedside table… Rachel realizes that it must have been going crazy for some time now, but somehow, none of them seemed to have noticed…_

_ Curious, Rachel reaches outwards for the device, fumbling it briefly between her hands, desperate to get her mind off of something, anything… Shelby has seven missed calls; they're all from Noah… Rachel's heart suddenly plummets with guilt as she remembers that there is no bus service willing to drive Noah the five miles or so from LHSCE back home… Shelby always picked him up – _

_Except for today._

_Rachel calls Shelby's voicemail, blinking nervously up towards the clock mounted against the wall as she raises the phone to her ear; it was nearly 5:00 at night, Noah had been out of school since 2:30._

_ "Mom where are you?" Rachel recognizes Noah's familiar voice against the one-sided answering machine message; he sounds frustrated but also at the same time, worried. "You were supposed to pick me up an hour ago."_

_ Rachel hangs up the phone quickly and in her frustrations tosses phone away from her where it teeters briefly against the edge of her bed before ultimately falling with a clang…_

_She doesn't want to hear any more. She doesn't want to comprehend the sudden realization that she is not about to become the only casualty to befall this family's imminent collapse._

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><p>Rachel slowly enters back into consciousness with the thought lingering across her mind whether or not this had all been just a dream or if she was actually dead…<p>

The first physical connection with the outside world that she processes through her heavy fog is a consistent pounding; the noise bouncing painfully against the insides of her forehead serving as a stark reminder that she was indeed, still alive…

The second is an excruciating pain that is currently ripping through her right temple, so unlike the pain that she had previously felt before her loss of consciousness that it forces her to realize, with a groan of disapproval, that she must have hit her head at some point on her way down to the floor.

"Rachel?" She recognizes that she is being spoken to but suddenly, she feels so far away… Slowly it becomes obvious that the sound that she had previously mistaken for being her own pulse thumping away inside of her forehead was actually just her mother knocking gently against the bathroom door. "Rachel, are you okay in there?"

She suddenly thinks that she would almost prefer being dead to having to face her mother with a descent excuse as for why she was currently laying on the bathroom floor with a goose egg rapidly developing against the side of her head.

Rachel pushes herself upwards and into a seated position, moving in slow, carefully orchestrated motions in an effort to avoid being brought down by her own traitorous body once more…

As her thoughts slowly begin to stabilize against her racing brain, she quickly realizes that she couldn't have been out for very long… Obviously, her mother would have come looking for her after too long, and if Rachel knows her mother, which she does, Shelby would have proceeded to break down the door rather than politely knocking should Rachel have ignored her for too long…

"Rachel!" Shelby's voice elevates in volume, the panic obvious so that Rachel knows that breaking down the door stage can't be too far behind.

"I'm fine mom…" Rachel calls back, continuing to make this insistence although she's more than aware of the idea that she is absolutely anything but fine…

"Are you sure, I heard something banging?" Rachel immediately curses herself inwardly for allowing the sheer sound of her limp body weight falling to the ground infiltrate into her mother's swift senses and makes a mental note to improve on her sense of tact for the next time she collapses to the ground…

"Uh, yeah, I slipped…" She produces the excuse on the fly; she knows that she cannot allow her mother to know that she had just collapsed in the bathroom. If she did, Shelby would have her in the Emergency Room faster than she could so much as get her story out of her mouth. Regionals wouldn't even be an option, and for Rachel, _that_ wasn't an option. "The sink is leaking again I just slipped on some water."

She would tell Shelby tomorrow, Rachel reasons with herself, _after_ her performance.

"Well are you okay?" Shelby's concern is obvious, even through the locked doorway currently separating the two. "Unlock the door Rachel, let me see."

Rachel groans inwardly, frustrated more at herself for knowingly putting herself in this position.

"Okay… hang on let me just finish getting changed real quick…" She vies for an excuse that will present her with more time to collect herself as she slowly lifts her body upwards and into a standing position. Her head begins to spin once more almost immediately; a combination of sickness and now, her newfound head injury meshing in an uncomfortable clashing that collides directly within the center of her skull.

She looks like a ghost, she thinks as she utilizes Shelby's obliging to her temporary request for privacy to evaluate the damage in the mirror. Her face is as white as a sheet, although Rachel does notice that it is steadily retaining at least a little bit of color… Her hair is impossibly disheveled, her eyes sunken and grey…

In fact, the only thing it seems, that might be able to distract Shelby from her daughter's abysmal appearance is the large bruise that is already prominent against the upper right-hand corner of her forehead.

As it turns out, Rachel realizes, this might just be her one saving grace.

She crosses her fingers, praying to God that Shelby would take the bait as she positions herself strategically so that the bruise would be the first thing that her mother would see and steadies her shaking hands long enough to toggle the lock on the bathroom door.

Shelby is standing practically nose-to-nose with her the second that she opens the door, her eyes glistening with concern against her features before they dart immediately to the bruise, punctuated like a highlighter mark against Rachel's pale skin, just as the girl had been hoping….

"Oh my God, are you okay?" She expresses her concern immediately, her fingers automatically reaching upwards in order to trace the mark's outline, her fingertips grazing across the contusion in a manner that makes Rachel wince. "Does it hurt? Are you dizzy at all? You might have a concussion, Rachel, maybe I should take you to the ER…"

"No!" Rachel had been expecting this response from her mother but still, she can't help but to react… "I'm fine, mom, really…" Not even Rachel believes her statement; all she can do is hope that Shelby would be too distracted to notice the lie, too caught up in her own fears to comprehend her daughter's.

After all, it was all that Rachel could do to stand here before her mother and silently wonder just what the hell it was that was wrong with her.

"Okay, but I want you to lie down do you hear me?" Rachel smirks, but she can't help but to roll her eyes; sometimes she can't help but to think that her mother has a tendency to over worry… but then again, Rachel couldn't blame her. "You don't look very well, you know."

"Yeah…"Rachel nods, pushing past her mother in an effort to walk towards her bedroom; she doesn't have the energy to object when Shelby follows, physically watching Rachel's ever motion in an effort to ensure that her stubborn daughter was following her instruction.

"Do you think that it will be noticeable at Regionals?" Rachel turns nervously towards her mother as she practically falls into her bed, lifting her hand gently to her head in an effort to analyze the lump, only to wince the second the appendage makes contact with the wound, sending a flash of pain down the length of her spine.

"We'll cover it with makeup," Shelby informs her, lowering her daughter's hand away from her face in a silent instruction that fiddling with it will only make it worse. "It'll be okay, you've had worse."

This much was true, Rachel knows… they all had their own fairly sizable scars; she just wished that hers would remain hidden for once.

"Get some rest now," Shelby instructs, and Rachel doesn't even bother pointing out to her that it's barely 7:00 at night… That doesn't seem to matter; to Rachel, it felt like midnight either way, "You'll need all you can get for Regionals tomorrow…"

Rachel chooses to pretend that she misses the stutter of worry as it emanates off of Shelby's lips at the mere reminder of the fact that they still had Regionals to tackle before Shelby could even consider Rachel's cooperation towards being dragged to the doctors.

"Will I be better by then?" Rachel's voice sounds childish through her yawn as she accepts Shelby's ministrations in burying her snugly beneath her blankets but she doesn't care… Her mother's assurance was the one thing that she truly wants right now, needs…

"Hopefully," Rachel can read the meaning behind Shelby's voice, telling her that her expression goes beyond the simplicity of a Regionals competition… "You just have to be patient with these types of things, sweetie."

Rachel remains silent; she's unable to come up with an appropriate response for her mother as the older woman retreats from her bedroom with an air of confidence, leaving the door open but a crack, just like she always would when Rachel was young so that she could periodically check in on the girl during the night…

In the darkness, Rachel considers her mother's words briefly, but she finds it increasingly difficult… For her, being patient was starting to get old; she was tired of all of this fear, tired of all of this waiting, afraid to concentrate on anything more than her present out of the concern that should she not, she would let her future slip right past her without her so much as noticing, forcing her to miss it entirely… permanently…

She flips over and onto her side, leaning heavily against the mattress as she attempts to force this idea out of her head, but it proves challenging… She is slowly convincing herself that she is the only one around her that is going absolutely insane and she has no idea what to do about it…

After all, she knows that nothing can last forever, now she is simply torturing herself trying to bring herself to understand why it is that this is the way that it's got to be.

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><p><strong>Marinka4<strong>** - Thank you! It's much appreciated. **

**Crazy-wee-cat**** - ****We'll find out in the next couple of chapters, but by now I'm sure you've noticed that I'm a sucker for angst** **so I generally can't help but to pack it in there.** **There will be lots and lots of more Rachel and Puck moments coming up, they're both going to end up leaning on each other pretty heavily in the next couple of chapters. As always, thank you for your kind words****, I love your reviews!**

**Welsg Girl**** - Thanks so much for the review! Shelby's family is about to get much more involved in both the present and the past chapters... They will be introduced in the next couple of chapters and will end up playing a pretty important role. **

**Readerforlife**** - Thanks again! Glad you're enjoying it :) **

**Solemnxhypnotic - Ahh, I'm sorry my perpetual love of all things angsty is breaking your heart! I'll make up for it with much, much more awesome big brother Noah moments coming up pretty soon but things are definitely gonna get worse before they get better, sorry! Thank you, thank you for the review!**

**Beaner008 - No need to apologize! I'm glad you're liking the balance! Thank you, thank you for the kind words!  
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**Sillystarshine -Thank you as always for the wonderful review! Everything's gonna start exploding around them all at once so get ready!  
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**emms56 -Thanks so much, much appreciated!  
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**NinjaGleek21 - Ahh, I'm so glad you're liking it so far! And don't worry about it, I wanna slap some people sometimes too :) Also, I freaking love cookies and am hereby willing to do anything for more! **

**Gleehee - Hahaha, I like it, mixing it up a bit. Thank you for a boatload of awesomeness!  
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	14. Shelby Corcoran February 2001 Part I

**I think I'm trying to commit to a record this week for most chapters put up in a seven day stretch hahaha... Here's the deal, my midterms are this week and I am the absolute queen of procrastination hence the copious amounts of updates. The good news for me (which might be bad news for you) is that my spring break officially begins on Friday and I am getting the hell out of freezing cold Boston, to go to freezing cold Colorado for some skiing but I'll try to get at least one more chapter in there before I leave (my biggest two midterms aren't until Friday so there is still plenty of procrastination time). **

**As per usual, thank you all for your amazingness and for sticking with me and for continuing to come back for more, you all keep me going! The real angst starts in this chapter so I hope you all still like me after the next couple of chapters get posted :)  
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><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – February 2001_  
>(Part I)<em>

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><p>There is a portrait of the small, four-person family mounted precariously on the living room wall that in the past two months, Shelby had since learned to avoid making direct eye contact with at all costs.<p>

Rachel couldn't have been much older than two years at the time that it was taken, and although Shelby hadn't allowed herself to glance across the image in weeks, she can still picture the outline of her young daughter's expression, dreary and distracted from her position sitting atop Shelby's lap every time she closes her eyes…

"_Sit with your look-alikes_." The photographer had joked with the parents as he'd strategically positioned Noah inside of Hiram's arms and nodded in his approval towards Shelby clutching Rachel tightly into her chest.

Shelby could remember beaming towards this man's, this stranger's recognition of the idea that Shelby and Hiram had been saying for years; that the two had cloned each other off in the form of their children; Rachel had always been Shelby's mini-me, and Noah, Hiram's.

Shelby had spent the years since Rachel's birth in a constant wonderment of who a third child could possibly come out resembling, but it was an idea that tortured her; her options of having children had ended the day that Rachel was born…

Hell, she had thought that her options of having children had ended with Noah… Her son had been a month old when the pain had begun.

It had started as minimal cramping, a natural reaction, she had initially believed, to her body still adhering to the idea that it was no longer supporting a child within it.

But as time progressed, it had only gotten worse, and it was only after it had finally radiated into her lower back and down the entirety of the length of her legs to the point that she could no longer so much as stand that she had ultimately been forced to bring herself back to her doctor.

It had been weeks until her OB/GYN had confirmed what had been her initial suspicions all along; stage three endometriosis.

The lesions had been so prominent that they'd had no choice but to surgically remove one ovary, the second having barely been saved by the use of hormone therapy.

Every doctor, every fertility expert in the Metropolitan area had told her that she would never conceive another child again, and that even if she did, it would never withstand development beyond the blastocyst stage…

And then, a year and a half following her initial surgery, her doctor had informed her that she had been six weeks pregnant.

And despite the fact that she'd tried desperately not to hold her hopes too high, par to the request of both her doctors as well as her husband, the weeks had passed, eventually turning into months until finally, her little girl had been born in an array of emotions at a mere twenty seven weeks; two pounds and eleven ounces of pure hope.

Rachel, for all intents and purposes had been their miracle child from the beginning; Shelby could only pray that she would be able to live up to her title for just a little bit longer.

When the family had moved from Manhattan into Lima just over a year ago now, they had mounted their proud family portrait just beyond the doorway leading into their living room, subconsciously placing it in a position where, no matter where you were within the home's first floor landing, you could always see it.

At the time, Shelby had loved the idea; she'd seen it as a means by which she could be constantly watching over her children, and them her, but now it merely taunted her, mocked her, screamed at her in its picture of perfection; a portrait that they hadn't seen, hadn't known for some time, and certainly would never know again.

She has been pacing up and down the length of her kitchen for nearly half of an hour, bowl strategically positioned beneath her left arm as she utilizes her right trying to mash the boiled potatoes beneath her strictly by hand; their mixer having been broken for weeks now, and a new one simply not fitting within their recently constrained budget any longer.

But Shelby doesn't mind; instead, she pretends that these skinned, boiled and helpless potatoes are her own mortal enemy, the root of all of her problems… And although her muscles burn and she's well aware that she must look thoroughly insane, every time she glances down upon the defenseless spuds, she sees instead, the small cancer cells running rampant through Rachel's veins, the look of disappointed confusion on Noah's face every time he must make a sacrifice for the name of his sister, or the empty eyes of her husband; a look that ensures that the wedded couple has since become strangers in their grief, and she only works harder.

Rachel is laying on the couch directly beyond the living room entranceway, semi-entranced by a movie on the television although Shelby can tell that her eyelids are beginning to grow heavy from all the way across the length of the house…

She had been released from the hospital for the first time following her initial admittance mere days ago, finally deemed healthy enough to recover from a particularly strenuous induction round at home before she'd only have to return to begin the cycle once more…

Every time that Shelby finds herself glancing upwards from her savage dinner making process to check on her daughter, she manages to catch a glimpse of that little girl in the picture, hovering tauntingly directly above the one sitting on the couch, and she can't bring herself to believe the idea that it's the same girl…

Much like she can't bring herself to believe that she is the same woman that is holding her.

The television is blaring; the weeks of chemotherapy having lined Rachel's nose and throat with a thick layer of mucus that has since built up inside of her sinus cavities, placing a pressure against her delicate eardrums that has rendered her temporarily hard of hearing…

The cheerful music of some obnoxious children's program is ringing through Shelby's brain, practically forcing her to listen along as some animated, unidentifiable creature from another dimension attempts to teach her four year old the basics of the alphabet… But Rachel is finally fast asleep; curled into a tight ball against the couch in a manner that makes the child look even smaller than she already was in her impossible sickness.

She is distracted only by the angry hissing of boiling water as the pot cooking the asparagus that she has damn near forgotten about in her assault on the potatoes bubbles over and drenches the stovetop as well as the floor below.

Reluctantly, Shelby pulls her eyes away from the sleeping child before her and turns towards the spitting stove, mentally cursing her distraction in the acknowledgment that the only vegetables that she could ever seem to get Noah to eat would now be burned away from his liking… Maybe she would have time to cook another batch before he and Hiram returned from their daylong outing to the batting cages… Shelby could only hope.

She flips at the nozzle, stifling the flaming gas beneath the scalding pot so that the boiling water retreats immediately, leaving her free to clutch at the warm handles with her bare hands so that she can transfer its contents to the strainer awaiting her from inside of the sink.

She is halfway to her destination when she hears it.

It begins as a strangled cry that appears almost muffled; the smallest of noises that quickly escalates into an almighty crash, emphasized by the dramatic tinkering of shattering glass coming from the direction of the living room.

Her heart freezes, but at the same time, the rest of her body doubles into overdrive. Her adrenaline pinpoints the exact task at hand; she's unbearably focused, any muscles that aren't directed towards getting her from the kitchen to her daughter's side as quickly as humanly possible fall instantly limp in an effort to make room for the energy requirements of those that are.

The pot slips steadily from beneath her nimble fingers, its boiling contents tilting thankfully away from her although splashes of the scalding water still leap outwards and pepper against the exposed skin of her arms. She recognizes that she has been burned, but she barely notices; the pain is nothing compared to that by which she is currently experiencing in the panicked constriction of her chest.

She is running as quickly as her feet can possibly carry her but for her, not even that seems to be enough… Her mind is spinning, the trip that cannot be more than ten feet in length seems to be taking hours as her mind races with the thought that Rachel had been feeling ill all day; that Shelby had simply ignored it.

Rachel had informed Shelby earlier that morning that she had been feeling more tired than usual, that her head had been hurting… But when Shelby had placed an impromptu phone call to Dr. McCarthy, and informed him that she hadn't been running a fever, he'd convinced her to hold off bringing Rachel straight into the emergency room despite everything that her motherly instinct had been screaming at her…

Shelby had never hated herself more.

The first thing that the woman notices upon rounding into the living room is that Rachel is no longer on the couch where Shelby has last seen her mere moments ago… the second is that the glass table strategically positioned just beyond the loveseat is shattered…

And finally, directly between the two is Rachel; impossibly stuck, wedged between the two fixtures and shuddering so violently that her mere twenty five pound, rail thin frame has single handedly pressed the sofa so harshly against the wall that the vibrations of its motions has sent that damn picture freefalling from its resting place straight onto the ground below where its frame rests cracked in two against the floor.

How symbolic.

Rachel's limbs are flailing frantically, seizing with no particular pattern to her motions. Her back is arched into a perfect semi-circle, toes curling beneath her as her teeth grit so hard against each other, that it forces the prominent veins in her neck to pop proudly outwards.

Rachel's eyes are open as she produces practically inhuman sounds straight from the very base of her throat but Shelby can tell that her daughter is not conscious… She allows herself to think briefly that maybe, this idea might be for the best before she is throwing herself onto her knees at her daughter's side, the glass shards piercing at her legs through her jeans a mere addition to her list of injuries; ranked just below the second degree burns already blistering against her hands and wrists.

She has never been so unsure of what it is that she should do in regards to her children's wellbeing and suddenly, she is feeling impossibly helpless, worthless… Her eyes are burning with the desire to produce tears but the adrenaline is running so rampant inside of her system that they can't seem to find the means by which to fall.

Shelby lifts a gently hand upwards, wiping it carefully across Rachel's forehead, bleeding prominently from a laceration directly above her right eyebrow; an injury that Shelby can only assume is a direct result of having fallen straight through a pure glass table…

Her heart is beating in overtime against her ribcage; thumping prominently in a manner that makes her feel as if it might physically explode as she is reminded that Rachel's latest blood work had shown a particularly depleted platelet count… It means that – as if Shelby didn't have enough concerns – now that Rachel has begun to bleed, they would be hard pressed to make her stop.

Her eyes search frantically for the first garment that she can find; ripping at the makeshift gauze pad in the form of a cloth blanket from atop the couch before pressing it firmly into Rachel's forehead in an effort to do what she could to staunch the flow.

She makes a mental note to apologize to Noah later for simultaneously ruining his favorite blanket in the process; she hopes that he would understand, but something inside of her tells her that he won't.

Shelby notices quickly that her daughter is burning up; the fever so prominent that Shelby can feel the heat radiating outwards and into her palm even from through the fabric that is currently separating their skin.

She knows that she should have been expecting this - pancytopenia – Rachel's doctors had called it. Basically, in lamens terms, in a combination of disease as well as the treatments currently acting to reverse it, Rachel's blood counts have fallen so low, that she has subsequently lost all of her body's natural defenses.

It means that for Rachel, infection isn't a risk, but a given.

The doctors had called it a miracle that Rachel had continued thus far without seeing its effects rearing its ugly head, and for the briefest moments of time, Shelby had actually allowed herself to believe that her daughter had finally broken through the cracks for once.

If anything, her blissful ignorance was only making things worse now that she starts to realize just how wrong she has been all along.

She forces herself to pause briefly, forces herself to take a deep breath; she is prepared for this moment, she makes herself believe. She has listened to all of the doctor's warnings, studied diligently the preparations that the nurses had instructed her on, read all of the pamphlets… She was prepared for this moment, Rachel needs her to be prepared for this moment…

_Call 911_

Somewhere deep inside the root of Shelby's subconscious, the voice rings out from the heavy fog that has since clouded her brain and she finds herself silently thanking God towards the idea that at least a part of her was coherent enough to make an informed decision.

_Call 911, the doctors can help her more than you can._

She tries desperately to push this self-degradation aside; she knows that she is not trying to make herself feel worse, but trying to do what is best for her daughter at the moment.

She struggles to her feet, head turning in any and all directions as she searches for the portable phone and her heart sinks the instant she realizes that she has left it upstairs following an impromptu telephone call from her mother rather than on its charger directly adjacent to her as it is supposed to be.

But as much as Shelby doesn't want to leave her daughter's side in this moment, she has to… She knows that she has to.

Shelby is mere steps away from the girl when she recognizes that even in her unconscious, Rachel can identify her mother's absence, and the young child begins immediately, to vie for the older woman's attention, calling her back towards her in the form of a steady gurgling; a choking cry that has Shelby turning back around just in time to watch as a steady stream of clear vomit escapes along the corners of Rachel's downturned mouth…

She's back against Rachel's side in a single, swift leap, turning the girl onto her side in a desperate attempt to keep her from choking while she simultaneously attempts not to grip her too tightly in an effort to allow her steadying convulsions to ride themselves out.

She tries propping Rachel's limp body against the couch, tries gathering a fortress of pillows and blankets, tries to find any means by which to keep Rachel on her side in order to prevent her from aspirating long enough for Shelby to rush into the bedroom and collect the phone, but Rachel's frame is just too tiny, her convulsions too strong to be stabilized by any outside object without rendering her dangerously on her back once more.

Shelby's entire body is trembling as her legs finally give out from underneath her, forcing her to collapse into a seated position besides her daughter… Her terror wells deep within the center of her chest, her uncertainty sending her body into violent tremors as she hold tighter and tighter onto her daughter…

_'Is this it?'_ She can't help but to think; '_Is this how she is going to go?'_

It seems barbaric; a devastating means to an end unworthy of her daughter who deserves so much more than what a mere four years on this planet can offer her. She can feel her flagrant emotions bubbling against her stomach until the feeling manifests as physical pain, and in an effort to achieve more space, expands upwards, straight into her lungs and out of her mouth in a cry that not even she is expecting.

"HELP!"

Her mouth formulates the plea before her brain can process it; she finds herself jumping at the mere shock of her own voice.

"Somebody please help me!"

Tears well behind her voice as she yells once more, and although this time, she is prepared for the sudden outburst of noise, she finds herself unsure of who it is that she is hoping to reach… But whether it be a nearby neighbor or whether it be God herself beckoning to her call, she can only hope that somebody, anybody would hear her…

And that they would hear her soon.

* * *

><p>While Shelby had been pregnant with Noah, the only thing that she could think about for the months leading up to his birth was all of the things that could have possibly gone wrong.<p>

She had begun to baby proof their towering Manhattan apartment the day that she had found out that she was pregnant, and by the time that she was four months along, she'd deemed it impossible to so much as scrape yourself within the confines of the home, it had been so protected.

When Rachel had come around, if anything, her worry had only grew… Through extenuating circumstances and the idea that this child might just be her and Hiram's last chance to expand their small family, her senses had only grown more acute towards the plethora of plagues that could befall either of her children.

There was the risk of falls, of choking, poisoning… hell, simply positioning the car seat in the improper position could lead your child to an untimely demise and you, a guilt that would crush you for the rest of your natural born existence and beyond.

Shelby had declared herself ready for it all but for six steady years, cancer had been a concern in regards to her children that had barely, if ever so much as crossed her mind…

Before Rachel had fallen ill, Shelby had found herself foolishly believing that there wasn't a threat in the world that couldn't be fixed with a kiss and a Band Aid.

She'd never considered all of the things that she couldn't physically see, the things that she couldn't prevent against, no matter how hard she tried… Ultimately, she'd found herself realizing that while she'd made the entirety of her outside existence all but impossible to emit harm on either of her two children, in Rachel's case, it wasn't what was on the outside that mattered… For Rachel, the issue was inside of her, inscribed deep within her very genes.

She has been waiting inside of the emergency room of Lima Memorial Hospital for an hour.

"Hey sweetie…" There has been a homeless man sitting beside her for the major part of said hour, leering for her attention as he leaned over her with a gauze bandage wrapped around his bloody hand. "You're looking upset darling, let me make it better."

Her feet are tapping at double time against the tile floor; she ignores him. She has to.

"Sweetheart, I'll make you forget all about your problems, come on." If anything, she is grateful for this man's presence; as long as he is seated before her, she refuses to become a blubbering fool… She briefly wonders whether or not his method of picking up grieving mothers in an emergency room triage unit ever works before she immediately pushes the thought from her mind; she has more important things to worry herself over right now besides this man.

She wishes that he was her biggest problem.

Her eyes dart quickly upwards towards the clock hanging tauntingly above her head for what seems like the millionth time since her arrival… Now, she has officially been waiting inside of the emergency room of Lima Memorial Hospital for one hour and one minute.

She busies herself with the feeling of wonderment towards the idea that time can run so quickly, yet so slow at the same time… She stares at the clock and it stands still, but she blinks and an hour has passed.

Time was a concept that she simply did not understand anymore as of late… It was too broad, too complex for her to wrap her head around the idea of why days continue to come and go, why seasons continue to change, days to pass no matter whether or not you're actually ready for them to do so.

She has already tried everything in her power to control the relentless clock in this past one hour and one minute; she has tried sleeping, she has tried speaking to herself, she has even tried pacing simply to keep herself sane; but still, she just couldn't seem to shake the feeling that she was positively losing her mind…

Suddenly pacing was just making everything worse, and when the only thing that was worse than thinking was physically feeling; an overwhelming pain that originated deep within her very gut and spread like a spider web crack in a windshield, she knew that it was time to sit.

Her cell phone goes off like a gunshot; it's suddenness practically forcing her to jump as she fumbles briefly with the pocketbook in her lap, its contents previously disorganized from her frantic search for the paperwork containing Rachel's medical information that she always carried with her; the paperwork that she had given to the admittance secretary one hour and two minutes ago now…

The dishevelment is making things impossibly difficult; her phone rings for a second time, a third… she just manages to wrap her fingers on it on the fourth.

"Hello?" She breaths quickly into the receiver without first bothering to identify the caller; she's just praying to God that it is not somebody that she simply does not want to talk to at the moment.

"Shelby hey, sorry we're running late," Shelby recognizes her husband's voice, seemingly unnoticing of the shakiness behind Shelby's greeting and her heart immediately sinks… she had forgotten to call him; she had forgotten to call anybody. "Me and Noah are on our way home right now, we got a little bit caught up at the batting cages, he just didn't want to leave."

There's a hint of a laugh behind his voice, a happiness that Shelby hasn't heard emit from beyond his voice in a long time… It leaves her confounded in her desire not to tell him, not to single-handedly destroy his day with the news that she has, until now, been carrying the brunt of across the width of her very own shoulders.

For several exceedingly tense seconds, she's silent; it takes an excruciating amount of effort to release the breath that she hasn't even realized that she has been holding with an audible shakiness that is impossible to miss; even over the receiver of a phone.

"Hiram…" Her voice sounds galaxies away, not even she seems to recognize it as her words are clouded by the unmistakable sound of Hiram's breath hitching upwards in his throat.

"Shelby what is it, what's wrong?" He asks as if he doesn't already know the answer; it was Rachel, that much was obvious… it was always Rachel.

"Rachel is in the emergency room, Hiram…" Shelby whispers quietly, "I left her on the couch to watch TV while I was making dinner and she… she had a really high fever, and then she started to seize… Hiram, they haven't come out to talk to me yet, I don't know what's wrong… I don't know what's wrong with our baby, Hiram."

Her voice grows exponentially faster as the words are slowly emitted from the back of her throat; after wallowing in a stony silence for over an hour, now that she has finally opened her mouth to speak, the words don't seem to stop.

The tears begin to flow prominently with her mere recollection of events, echoing loudly through even the noisy clatter of a crowded community hospital triage unit…

Slowly, the heads begin turning towards her direction; waiting patients and concerned friends and family members alike sneaking but a quick glance before their heads snap back and away from her as if out of concern that grief was a contagious emotion.

The processing of a grieving mother was a movie that none of them wanted to watch… Not even the homeless man seated directly beside her had a word to say on the matter any longer.

"Shelby… how long have you been there?" Hiram's reaction was not what Shelby had been expecting; in fact, if anything, it had been the opposite… His voice drops suddenly, a hint of bitter annoyance gracing its tone that only seems to make Shelby feel, if possible, even worse. "Rachel is in the ER and you didn't even think to call me?"

His blame is wrongfully placed, and although Shelby knows that Hiram must know this, that his reaction was simply the manifestation of his deepest fears emitting onto her for the time being, Shelby's emotions are in no state to be toyed with at the moment; she's quickly offended.

"Hiram…" Her mere word professes her wonderment towards the idea that her husband is currently questioning her incentives; he knows just as well as she does how easy it was to become impossibly frazzled, tainted beyond the realm of conscious thought processing and seemingly simple problem solving skills.

"Forget it Shelby," His words are harsh, they burn like fire through Shelby's already aching heart in a manner that takes her aback; physically throwing her body against the waiting room chair that she is sitting in. "I'll be there in five minutes… Call me if you hear anything at all!"

His direction is specific, emphasized in an effort to make his case in point; as if Shelby would ever forget to call him in regards to their daughter ever again.

He's hung up the phone before she can even so much as process an appropriate response towards her husband, and in the wake of a dial tone, she is left confused.

There is a part of her that is exceptionally pissed that Hiram would ever even think to take such a tone with her in her fragile state, pissed that he would actually accuse her of withholding critical information regarding their daughter on purpose, pissed that he was right… just like he always was.

But on the other hand, there was still that other half that understood; understood the terror that comes hand-in-hand with being left in the dark, the terror of making a routine phone call, only to be overwhelmed by a tragedy.

Shelby's natural response to fear is a deafening silence; she'd always had a strong tendency to hoard her emotions deep within the very pit of her brain where they gathered where nobody could see them; fear, anger, overwhelming sadness…

While she was on Broadway, such negative emotions, her acting coach used to tell her, had no place in the real world. Channel your anger; he'd instruct her, save it for the stage.

By now, the process came naturally; she had since learned to do it without even realizing… Her mother used to scold her for it, tell her that it wasn't a healthy way to go about your life, that all of the things that she repressed were bound to catch up with her eventually, and that when they did it wasn't going to be pretty.

Her mother… Shelby sighs aloud at the mere thought of the woman… She has been calling Shelby for weeks now, badgering her to find the time to travel back to her east coast home, to place a visit to her and her father, her brother and his brand new son…

Crystal Berry has been fawning over her latest grandchild for weeks; it had after all, been four years since she had been graced with a new grandchild in the form of Rachel… _"Now we just have to find your sister a proper husband,"_ She'd told Shelby over the phone just last week, and Shelby had simply nodded and agreed, deciding that straying from detail would make it easier to keep her mother in the dark.

Shelby has been making excuses for weeks now… Her mother didn't know about Rachel, nobody did.

It wasn't as if she wasn't particularly close to her family, nor because she didn't believe that their comfort and support would be helpful; her parents had given her absolutely everything that she had ever dreamed of, her older brother annoyed the hell out of her but she still loved him, and although she hadn't spoken to her little sister since before Hanukkah, that was only because the youngest Berry sibling had just begun law school at the University of Ohio and barely had time to so much as breathe let alone worry herself over this mess…

No, by this point it seemed, that Shelby's withholding of information regarding her family stemmed from the idea that still, nearly two months later, Shelby has still not processed the proper means by which to go about informing her family that she had been spending the past several weeks simply making plans not to make plans.

But now that Rachel has taken such a sudden, unexpected turn for the worse, Shelby can't help but wonder whether or not maybe, it's time.

Her phone is pressed up into her ear once more without her even realizing that her fingers had dialed so that she is not prepared for the response of the soft, familiar voice at the other end.

"Hello?"

She's embraced by a sudden, sweeping warmth; a comfort that floods across the entirety of the length of her body. She's suddenly feeling as if she were a child all over again, running home from school in tears because Stacy Grammar had made fun of the dress that she had worn, or the way that her hair had looked in the pigtails that her mother used to braid for her every morning.

Shelby swallows the lump in her throat as she prepares herself for a reaction that not even she can anticipate. She takes a deep breath, stuttering only briefly as the words catch temporarily within the center of her throat before emitting as more of a choking drawl than she had originally intended upon…

"Mom?"

* * *

><p><strong>Anon<strong>** – I am flattered, thank you! My midterms week was this week which meant plenty of time for procrastination that basically equals me spending all of my time writing hahaha. Sorry the time lapses are a bit confusing, basically anything that is in italics is a flashback but I'll try to throw in a little more context clues to help people figure out exactly what the time frame is. I'm honestly not sure how long this is going to be, so far I have my ideas separated into four main parts and these last two chapters are the very beginning of the second part if that clears it up. I'd like to have it finished by September because I am backpacking across Europe with a few friends and will be gone for about two months and wouldn't want to keep anybody waiting that long. Also, I'm pretty sure that you can get notifications for new chapters but I'm not exactly sure how to do that sorry. Thanks again for all your kindness!**

**PeggyJane**** – Wow, I'm beyond flattered by this beautiful review. Really, thank you isn't enough. I'm generally more used to the idea of Puck and Rachel as a couple as well and this story started out like that in its rough stages and then I came across a story where they were siblings and tested it out and it made more sense to go in that direction in the long run so I'm really, really glad you enjoyed it. (And also, the way they developed Rachel and Shelby's relationship on the show frustrated me too which is a huge reason I started this story to begin with). I'm also glad it's making sense medically, especially to somebody with experience in the field, I'm a first year med student and my focus is on pediatric OncHem but I'm a ways away from actually studying my focus and definitely have a long way as far as learning goes so it's always nice to hear that I'm on a semi-right path.**

**Thank you once more, I really am absolutely honored by all of your kind words! **

**Readerforlife**** – Thank you again muchos! It's greatly, greatly appreciated. **

**Crazy-Wee-Cat**** – Thank you! I'll try to sneak some extra Puck and Rachel moments in there just for you now :)**

**TommyH**** – Thanks for the review! And I'm glad their relationship is realistic to you. I try to base their relationship as much as I can against me and by older brother who I love and also love to hate on most days :) **

**CloudGazer15**** – Ah, no, don't feel bad! No need to apologize, no harm no foul; I still love all of your reviews! I'm glad you liked the chapter, you're definitely headed in the right direction, some major stuff is going to go down on the day of Regionals. I've got a little bit of drama for everybody. **

**NinjaGleek21**** – Aha, then I guess I'm gonna have to extend this story and keep adding more chapters! Glad you liked this one!**

**Marinka4**** – No, don't cry then I'll feel bad! I am glad you enjoyed though!**


	15. Shelby Corcoran October 2011 Part I

**So, for this chapter I decided to switch things up a little bit just to test out a little bit of dynamic in the story; both this chapter and the last I split into two separate parts, but I'm gonna attempt interweaving them between each other to see how it goes. Part 2 of Shelby's past chapter will be next and then part 2 of this chapter. **

**I'm just experimenting really, let me know if it works out for you or if it's terrible!**

**Also, I'm leaving for Colorado later today and will be voluntarily void of all technology until I come back on Saturday. Enjoy your week everyone, I'll see you when I return!**

Ballerina03 – Huh, that's weird haha. I am going all over! I am from Ireland originally but me and my family moved to the States when I was five and I haven't been back since so we're starting there and then going through England, France, Switzerland, Germany, Italy and hopefully Spain. Any suggestions? Sorry to keep you in so much suspense! I tend to be mean like that haha.

Readerforlife – Thank you again! As always, it's greatly appreciated.

Solemnxhypnotic – I'm glad you got your internet back! I know, Rachel probably should just suck it up but she's definitely not the type of person to put her health before something that she sees as so important to her as Regional. One time last year I broke my collar bone the week before my rugby team went to Nationals and point blank refused not to play/only made everything worse so I'm basing it a little bit off my own stupidity. She'll fight tooth and nail to make it to that competition.

Crazy-wee-cat – Hahaha, I'm glad I'm not the only one, I'm terrible like that. Thanks for the kind words, they're enormously appreciated as always.

NinjaGleek21 – Yay, thank you, I'm loving all these treats.

CloudGazer15 – Are you kidding, I can never be upset! Glad you enjoyed, and don't worry, Puck will get his fair share of opportunity to put in his two cents very, very soon (his P.O.V. is coming up next).

PeggyJane - Not to worry, I'm usually typing with frozen fingers in not so sunny New England so I understand :) I'm glad you like all of them haha, and protective Shelby will definitely be coming out a little bit more often in the near future! Poor Hiram has a tendency to get stuck in the dark and it's all definitely gonna add up on him eventually. Thanks for the review, appreciate it!

* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – October 2011

_(Part I)_

* * *

><p>All of the experience that she has had with motherhood thus far presents her with the natural reaction to fall immediately suspicious of silence.<p>

She awakes early on the morning of Regionals to an utter quiet in the exact opposite manner of everything that she has been anticipating all along…

Considering the fact that her children fight each other tooth and nail for bathroom space even on the simplest of school days, she had expected World War III to have already erupted throughout her house by now.

But as she rolls over in her bed, poising her ears just a little bit sturdier, still, she hears nothing.

Shelby darts upwards within her bed in her suspicions, pulling herself into a seated position quickly before she stills, senses narrowed carefully towards the direction of the hallway as she waits for a source to confirm the idea that her instincts are off.

Her limbs twitch involuntarily, sending a heavy foot into the rib cage of the sleeping man besides her in a swift, accidental kick… It has been over a month since her and Ryan had begun seeing each other and still, she finds herself adjusting to the idea of sleeping besides somebody once more. She hasn't shared a bed since Hiram died.

Ryan grunts gently but he merely shifts where he lay, turning his body onto its left side, back towards Shelby… He was a heavy sleeper, a quality that is required inside of this home should you find yourself wanting to actually achieve a descent night's sleep…

Shelby moves carefully as she heaves her legs over the side of the bed, standing carefully to her feet before slipping each appendage into its respective slipper, strolling silently into the hallway, her arms wrapping protectively across her torso as her body adjusts to the warmth no longer provided by her thick quilt and shared body heat.

There is a soft shuffle originating from the direction of the bathroom, light seeping outwards through the small space in the narrowly ajar door, drenching the otherwise dark hallway…

Shelby approaches with caution, still convinced that this smooth awakening is all one large trap as she tilts her head into the doorway, peering into the bathroom where she immediately finds her son, already dressed in his uniform for Regionals; simple, all black dress clothes with a gold tie emblazoned down his front so that he looks sharp, handsome, impossibly grown up as he studies his own image carefully inside of the mirror, his nose practically touching the glass as his hands work through his hair, perfecting the mohawk that he is so protective of.

"You look handsome…"

He jumps at the unexpected noise, turning to face his mother so that his eyes are forced to adjust to their sudden presentation of focusing on a distance only briefly before he shoots her a quick smile, his bright features reflecting prominently against the dark outfit…

He has always been a charmer, Shelby can't help but to think, ever since the day that he was born.

"Thanks ma…" Noah shuffles nervously, pressing his flat palms against his shirt and pants in an effort to smooth out the last of the wrinkles before he quickly adjusts his tie, pulling the knot in closer towards his neck until it rests comfortably just below his Adam's apple.

Shelby can't help but to smile proudly; usually it's Rachel that she's reminding of the idea that they have at least another hour or two before they so much as have to leave for the competition… But in her prominent absence, it looked to Shelby as if Noah had taken over for her…

"Where's your sister?" Her mouth turns slightly downwards towards the idea that Rachel isn't right beside him, already wearing her dress and warming up her vocals as she drowned herself in cups of green tea and honey by the case full…

This does nothing but remind Shelby that Rachel had gone to bed last night looking absolutely terrible.

"I don't know," Noah shrugs, practically forcing himself to look away as he catches the concern in his mother's eye. "I've been up since six and I haven't seen her."

Shelby turns nervously over her shoulder, eyes peering away from the bathroom's interior and down the length of the hallway, half expecting to see Rachel strutting carefully down it in response to having her mother call her name; a silent confirmation that she was fine, that she was going to be just fine…

She slinks away from the bathroom door without a word to her son, but he doesn't bother to call her back as she walks slowly, inadvertently stepping on her tip-toes the entirety of the trip towards Rachel's closed bedroom door.

Shelby knocks gently, the rapping low, nearly impossible to hear, but either way, she doesn't wait for a response before she's opening the door but a crack, her eyes peering in cautiously, automatically narrowing in towards Rachel's bed.

"Rachel, sweetie…"

The room is dark with an air of stuffiness reminiscent of sickness and the uncharacteristic clutter that had since formulated about the floor, unusual for Rachel, who was practically obsessive about the state of her bedroom.

"Rachel?" Shelby c alls once more as she invites herself further into the room, flipping the light switch in her wake so that she was suddenly drenched in light, able to identify Rachel, fast asleep and laying stomach down against her bed, chest rising and falling rhythmically in her steady sleep-patterned breathing…

The girl doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rachel?" Shelby's voice elevates slightly as she extends her arms, outstretching them carefully towards Rachel.

Her fingers just barely clasp themselves around the younger girl's shoulders when Rachel shoots upwards so sharply that Shelby is forced to recoil just to prevent herself from getting smacked across the face by Rachel's elbow, which flings naturally behind her in response to her sudden awakening.

"Where am I? What time is it? Oh God, did I miss Regionals?' Her voice splutters at a mile a minute, performing an elaborate race with itself as she scrambles to untangle herself from her knot of bed sheets while simultaneously shooting to her feet; her body rebelling against her brutally in its efforts to push her back onto her back with each attempt to stand.

Shelby is silently grateful.

"Rachel calm down," Shelby finds herself forced to physically restrain her daughter, grasping Rachel gently about her shoulders where she pins her easily to her bed, the younger girl struggling only briefly before she falls limp within her mother's arms. "There's still nearly an hour and a half before we have to leave."

"Oh thank God…" Rachel visibly relaxes, sinking back down comfortably against her pillows as she allows herself a handful of steady, calming breaths to regain her bearings, lifting her shaking hands upwards to shake the hair from her brow line, which has since grown sweaty in her panic…

Shelby can tell that Rachel regrets the action almost immediately; the girl winces painfully upon making contact with the mark lingering against the upper right-hand corner of her forehead, painfully swollen and if possible, only looking worse than it had last night.

Shelby knows that Rachel had claimed to have simply fallen in the bathroom, but suddenly, she can't help but to find herself suspecting that there might be more to the story than what her daughter had initially let on.

The bruise has since turned a frightening shade of navy with thick layers of purple undertones littering the length of her face, well past her brow line to the point that even Shelby can't help but to wince… She knows that she had previously promised Rachel the opportunity to cover it up before the competition, but at this point, she's not sure if this will actually be possible any longer.

"Does it hurt?" Shelby asks softly, reaching a hand subconsciously upwards in an effort to brush at the offending mark just as Rachel is shaking her head in her negative response towards Shelby's inquiry, the simultaneous response leaving Shelby's thumb to press with an accidental firmness against the bruise, leaving Rachel retreating naturally in an effort to escape the painful touch.

But not before Shelby has the opportunity to pick up on the heat that is radiating off of her daughter's body.

"Rachel honey, you're burning up…" Her concerns shuffle with an impressive swiftness, worry seeping through Shelby's voice as she pretends to miss her daughter rolling her eyes towards what Rachel must believe to be over concern on her mother's part…

But this was typical of her reaction, Shelby can't help but to think; a constant state of worry, a spark of panic ignited by a simple fever… Shelby used to have a sense of confidence regarding her kids, she used to have faith… but the day that she had practically been destroyed by her own naivety was the day that she'd promised herself never to go back to that state for the rest of her life… she couldn't.

"It's fine…" Rachel sighs as she ducks strategically from beneath her mother's grasp and slowly pulls herself to her feet from the opposing side of the bed from where Shelby currently stands, "Besides, you're making me go to the doctor as soon as Regionals is over so who cares…" Rachel's tone sounds almost accusing and Shelby can't help but to cross her arms sternly across her chest, shooting a matching look towards the younger girl… Her daughter wasn't usually this defensive about anything, and if possible, this worries Shelby even more.

"I think that we're passed waiting until after Regionals, Rachel…" Her words stop Rachel dead in her tracks, just as Shelby knew that they would; the young girl turning towards her mother, eyes wide in horror at the mere suggestion she knew the woman to be making... Her daughter was much too dramatic, too theatrical, too much like her for her own good.

"You want me to miss Regionals?" Rachel's voice is low, appalled towards the mere idea that Shelby is trying to profess; and behind the overwhelming evidence of desperate illness embedded deep inside of her daughter's face, Shelby can see her horror towards the very idea.

"Your health is more important than a competition, Rachel!" Shelby wishes for nothing more than an opportunity to force Rachel to understand this, to get her to overlook her own narrow world of a future singing career to concentrate on the things that matter the most.

Yes, Shelby understands that Rachel was tired of people stepping on eggshells around her simply because of her past, Shelby understands because she was tired of it too; she was tired of being held down, tired of being forced to live constantly in the past… She wanted nothing more than to move on with their lives, to get this history off of their minds, but lately, certain events have been making it difficult to do so.

"Nothing is more important than this!" Rachel's voice is steadily elevating… Shelby knows that it is now only a matter of time before Noah is rounding into the bedroom in an effort to find out what was going on…

"Rachel…" Shelby sighs impatiently, but she can't bring herself to emit much more than this; she is too busy trying to look back to a point in time in her life where decisions weren't this hard to make… It was so far into her past that she couldn't even think of it anymore.

"Do you have some kind of weird, ulterior motives or something?" Rachel asks so that Shelby can't help but to raise her eyebrows in a curious warning… "What are you trying to get rid of one of our best singers so that Vocal Adrenaline can win today?"

For the briefest of seconds, Shelby remains unsure of how to respond to her daughter's accusation. She tries not to be offended, Rachel had always had a tendency to act out when she wasn't feeling well, ever since she was a kid, but suddenly, it's difficult for her not to do so.

"Of course not, Rachel…" Shelby tries to keep her voice neutral but there's a hint of disappointment in her tone that she can only hope allows Rachel to realize just how ludicrous her statement sounds. "I can't believe that you would even think that… I'm worried about you! And besides, if it makes you feel better, I won't be going to Regionals today either, I'm staying home with you."

"Who's not going to Regionals?" As expected, Noah rounds into Rachel's bedroom right on schedule, lingering inside of the doorway with a curious sense of concern written across his face regarding the mysterious, unsettling conversation currently erupting between his sister and mother.

"Your sister and I will be staying home today." Shelby informs Noah in a matter of fact manner, "Rachel is sick… I'll drop you off Noah, but then I'm coming right back here."

For a couple of brief seconds, Noah simply stares at his mother as if she'd suddenly grown six heads. His eyes are wide, his jaw locked open in his shock and suddenly, in a simultaneous reaction that Shelby is almost certain her children had pre-planned both Rachel and Noah erupt in their protest.

The noise is warped impossibly in the contrasting arguments against Rachel's soprano and Noah's bass, but the message is clear; Rachel cannot miss this performance, besides the fact that she would be the one performing the required solo piece, without her, they would also have no choice but to forfeit the competition, it being much too late to recruit one more for their required twelve man roster.

Shelby finds her head spinning quickly; her kids are practically shouting in either ear to the point that their voices sound like nothing more than a consistent ringing that makes her want to pull her own hair out of her head…

She knows that she would be able to find the right words should she just be granted the opportunity to stop and think for a brief moment or two, but right now, that simply was not looking to be an option…

"Fine!" Shelby's shout rises easily above both Noah and Rachel's heads and Shelby can't help but to feel disappointed with herself in the idea that she simply caved to get her kids to stop yelling her ears off… Shelby knows that compromise was a simple term of motherhood, but still, this time, she equates it to having failed Rachel… no matter how much she knows that her daughter would not agree to that statement. "Fine, Rachel you can go to Regionals, but the second that your club is done performing I am bringing you home do you hear me?"

Shelby emphasizes her simple timeline of events; sure, she had compromised on Rachel's attendance, but this was where her willingness to bargain ended.

"Deal," Rachel nods, and although her face is beaming, Shelby can't help but to think that this doesn't make her features appear any less ill-ridden. "I've got to go get ready, I'm already late…"

Rachel pushes quickly past her family but Shelby has the suspicion that this has more to do with the idea that she wants to escape from her mother's lingering glare more than it does her need to prepare…

Shelby sighs heavily, her head hung as she watches Rachel disappear into the hallway from the corner of her eyes… She only looks up upon her remembering that her son is still standing in the doorway staring at her and she tilts her head only slightly upwards to meet his eyes.

Now that the necessity of argument has cleared, the worry seeps in its entirety deep within the very pits of Shelby's veins so that she knows it to be pointless to try and rid herself of it.

Noah can see the familiar look inside of his mother's eyes, Shelby knows this… Hell, a blind man could see the worry in Shelby's eyes… Her thoughts truly begin to register this idea however, the second that she notices Noah returning the expression; and although he had previously been arguing to Rachel's advantage, she's certain that he now understands Shelby's intentions run deeper than what he had previously thought…

Without a word, Shelby steps passed her son and out of her daughter's room into the hallway, trying desperately to use the open air to collect herself… She sees the worry in her son's eyes, the sickness in her daughter's and in an instant, she realizes that she had never meant for their lives to have turned out anything like this…

"Hey, is everything okay?" Ryan is lingering in the doorway of Shelby's bedroom shuffling uncomfortably, still being at a point in their relationship where he's unsure whether or not to intervene amidst a family argument…

Shelby tries desperately to ignore Noah as he walks back towards his own bedroom with an obvious eye roll.

"Yeah," Shelby sighs softly as Noah's bedroom door slams a little bit louder than was necessary in his wake. "Stupid mom stuff, that's all… I worry too much."

She allows herself to fall into his chest, where she sinks straight into his skin, just looking for something to hold onto as he reciprocates the action, and for once, tells _her_ that everything is going to be okay.

"I wish that I didn't have to work today…" He turns the subject strategically as his arms tighten around her shoulders. "I would have liked to see Rachel and Noah perform… your kids too."

"Rachel and Noah are my kids…" Shelby laughs although she understands what Ryan was trying to say; he simply doesn't understand Shelby's current dilemma towards her fate following this competition, because no matter how hard she's trying to convince herself that either outcome, she wins, she can't help but to regress and to think the exact opposite; either way, she loses…

In one instance, she can get fired from her job for failing to bring Vocal Adrenaline to Nationals for the first time in over a decade, or she can prepare to face a literal war bound to erupt between her and her children in their hostility.

"I'll be back before the celebration," He assures her, knowing immediately the thoughts running through her head so that he immediately attempts to ease her fears. "For whichever team comes home the champion…"

His head leans downwards against Shelby's slightly shorter frame, his lips locking with Shelby's in a manner that silences her before she can mention the idea that there still is a third glee club competing, that there's a chance that neither of their clubs will come home with the title, that she is almost hoping for this outcome to be her saving grace…

"I should get ready…" Shelby pulls away despite herself, slinking out of his arms so that she feels an immediate rush of coldness against the loss of contact.

"I'll make breakfast," He assures her, offering her a gentle expression that she returns, appreciative of his efforts to give her but one less task to complete as he retreats towards the stairwell and her, her bathroom where she locks herself inside…

Finally alone to contemplate how it was that her life had ever come to this point in time.

* * *

><p>The auditorium lobby is already packed to capacity and there is still a half an hour before check in even begins.<p>

Shelby takes a natural charge forwards, leading her children in side as she walks through the heavy sets of double doors that lead into the atrium. The glares being shot towards both her and her children by their respective teams are unavoidable; sabotage, they all foolishly think despite the idea that they should know the Corcoran's enough to understand that succumbing to bribery wasn't possible.

"I guess that this is where we part ways." Shelby sighs, pulling her kids to the side quickly in an effort to spare her kids from the daggers being shot at them through the eyes of their teammates… They nod their heads in a quick agreement.

"Good luck…" Shelby beams at them in her efforts to assure them that she truly means everything that she is expressing towards them. "And just remember that whatever happens, you guys will always be winners to me."

Rachel and Noah simultaneously groan in embarrassment, rolling their eyes towards their mother's corniness as well as her insistency towards pulling the embarrassing mom card at all possible occasions.

"You too mom," Rachel reciprocates her mother's actions but her words are not nearly as genuine as Shelby's had been as she leans forward and wraps her mother into a quick hug… Shelby brings the girl close into her chest, holding her firmly as she attempts to be secretive about pressing her cheek into Rachel's forehead in an effort to gauge the unusual warmth still radiating just as fervently off of her daughter's skin.

Eventually, Shelby pulls away but it's only reluctantly.

"Yeah, good luck, ma," Noah nods as he pulls his mother into a much shorter, one-armed hug that ends almost as quickly as it begins with the reminder that half of his football team is currently standing behind him watching. "But I still think that we're gonna cream you guys."

Shelby releases a short laugh, emphasized by a quick nod… It was typical of her son to talk up to the competition, he, like his little sister, simply did not embrace so much as the possibility of losing kindly.

"And Noah?" He is just turning to follow Rachel towards the small group of New Directions members clustered at the opposite end of the hallway when Shelby calls him back, "Do me a favor, watch out for your sister for me okay?"

"I always do…" He emphasizes the answer that he always provides to his mother every time Shelby asks him to keep an extra eye on Rachel in the hopes that maybe, she would realize that she didn't ever have to ask him; but she always did, and she knew as well as Noah did that she always would.

Shelby assess her son carefully as, with one more short, confirming nod, he turns to follow Rachel towards his teammates, and this time, Shelby lets him go… she knows that this time would have had to come eventually.

But still, she watches him for the entirety of the time that he commits to the short journey. Shelby can't help but to eye him proudly as she reflects on how much he has grown up, how much he has lifted himself from those days, seemingly so long ago now, that he committed to nothing but trouble.

She used to worry about her son so much; about what he would become, how he would turn out… She is only starting to realize now that her fears had been unwarranted at the time… Noah had always been the type of kid that could positively soar, no matter what amount of weight held down his wings… both of his children were.

But still, Shelby knows that she still has an impossible amount of learning to do… She has been a mother for eighteen years and still, she was provided with a new experience every day; from herself, but mostly from her own two children, who she finds herself constantly in awe over, over how far they had come, and how far they still had left to go…

* * *

><p><em>Shelby yawns deeply as she works desperately simply to keep her eyes open.<em>

_She has already tried everything in her short drive to stay awake; she's blasted the radio, rolled down every window in an effort to flood her veins with the frigid, December air, pinched herself relentlessly until her arms were littered with bruises, and clutched desperately onto the steering wheel trying to remind herself that she was only five minutes away from home… Five minutes until she could actually get some sleep. _

_ It is almost midnight, and considering the fact that it has been a couple of years – seven to be exact – since she has been forced to spend an entire day seated at her child's sick bedside inside of a hospital room, she has almost forgotten just how exhausting that the task can truly become. _

_ The doctors had collectively decided to keep Rachel admitted for next several days as her body adjusted to the new medication that she had since been put on, and her family adjusted to the idea that she could be a mere days away from the relapse that they had been fearing since Rachel was four years old._

_Both Shelby and Rachel had been delivered a promise earlier that morning that the Imatinib that Rachel had since been prescribed would come with minimal side effects, but it had barely been an hour after her first dosage that Rachel had become so crippled by nausea and bone pain that she could barely move…_

_ She had been drifting in and out of a restless unconscious all evening, Shelby at her bedside to help coax her through her pain until finally the nurses had practically been forced to provide Rachel with a sedative that would help her to actually sleep through the night… _

_ Rachel had cried herself into a drug-induced sleep nearly an hour ago now, leaving Shelby free to head back to the house in an effort to catch up on some much needed rest herself, while simultaneously checking up on Noah who she hadn't managed to get into contact with since the painful realization that she had never picked him up from school that afternoon…_

_She couldn't help but to start getting worried about her son, having not received so much as a word from him since the ten missed calls that he had placed to her, the last one arriving a little bit after five o'clock that evening. When she'd attempted to call him back, she'd only been met with an immediate voicemail…_

_ He didn't even know that Rachel was in the hospital. _

_ "Noah!" Shelby calls to him immediately as she rounds into the house._

_ "Noah!" She offers the beckoning call once more after several silent seconds pass with no response. Shelby rounds towards the staircase; her son, in his rebellious state, has recently taken to sitting in his room with his headphones blaring full blast simply to block out the sound of his mother's voice; and no matter how many times Shelby had warned him that he was going to go deaf by the time he was thirty years old, he didn't listen to her; he never did. _

_ Her feet barely get beyond the first step before she hears the portable house phone blaring from its location in the living room behind her… Shelby's heart freezes instantaneously; the only possible explanation for somebody to be calling her this late at night was that something had happened to Rachel, that something had gone wrong._

_The plethora of possibilities races across her mind as she darts from the stairwell, tripping over her own two feet and damn near breaking her ankle in the process… She stumbles, but rights herself quickly. _

_What if the clinical relapse that they were so fearing had struck even earlier than what even the doctors had anticipated? What if Rachel had had a bad reaction to the new medication that she had been placed on? What if she was dead? _

_Tears sting at Shelby's eyes as she forces herself not to think in that manner; she's out of breath by the time she reaches the phone, answering it in the midst of the second ring. _

_ "Hello?"_

_ "Mrs. Corcoran?" The voice on the other line is unfamiliar, yet official in tone, morose and heavy with the plague of bad news; her worry increases only exponentially as she sucks in a breath and holds it there._

_ "Yes, this is she," Shelby speaks quickly, her words tumbling over each other, "What's the matter, is Rachel okay?"_

_ "Um… Mrs. Corcoran, this is Officer David O'Malley from the Lima Police Department…" He sounds uncertain, unsure of how to react to Shelby's outburst which, in retrospect, has absolutely nothing to do with Rachel… She must sound like a crazy person; this wasn't about Rachel, there could only be one other possible explanation; Noah. "I'm calling to inform you that your son has been placed under arrest and is currently in custody at our headquarters."_

_ "W… what did he do?" Shelby stutters in her lack of preparation for the contents of this call; sure, this wasn't the first time that Noah has been arrested, but tonight, the blow strikes her particularly hard as she realizes that by directing the brunt of her concern upon Rachel all day, she simultaneously forgot that she had another child crying out for help directly in front of her in the process…_

_So yes, this may not have been the first time that Noah has been arrested, but it was the first time that she truly did blame herself. _

"_He was placed under arrest on the grounds of public intoxication at approximately 11;30 tonight, and upon his arrival at the precinct, he was also found to have been in possession of approximately half of an ounce of marijuana."_

_ Shelby takes in a sharp breath as she sweeps her hands across her hair, forcing the tears of frustration stemming from an entire day's worth of unfortunate events straight back and into her eyes. _

"_I'll be right there." _

_She had been stupid enough to believe that she was actually going to get sleep tonight; that was the only thing that she could think about as a young officer guides her down the length of holding cells located within the Lima Police Department, straight towards the last cell on the right…_

_ Still a minor, by law, Noah is required to remain separated from the other prisoners, Shelby is well aware of this, but still, she can't help but to wish that they had thrown him straight into a cell with the rest of them so that maybe, he could actually have some sense beaten into him. _

_Shelby can only assume that this would be a task that she would have to perform on her own accord later on when they got home._

"_Well?" _

_She asks him for an explanation before Noah can even so much as process his mother's presence, but the second that she sees him, she is fuming worse than she already has been, demanding of answers… He appears smug by his actions, unapologetic, and suddenly, Shelby wants nothing more than to smack that look right off of her son's face; she doesn't care if it gets her thrown into the cell right next to him. _

_ Noah chooses not to respond, he doesn't even stand from the hard metal bench at the far corner of the cell that he is currently laying against… In fact, the only visual representation that he makes towards the idea that he so much as recognizes his mother's presence is a brief eye roll that only makes things worse, and suddenly, Shelby finds herself lunging forwards, gripping against the steel bars separating her from her son with a force so tight that the circulation is cut immediately from her hands… They don't even embark upon their white transition phase; her knuckles turn blue almost immediately._

_ "Do you have any idea what I have been through today?" She screams, suddenly well aware that Noah should consider himself lucky to have a barricade separating them. All around her, the jail goes suddenly silent before slowly, a handful of inmates begin jeering in their response. "Jesus Christ Noah, today; did you have to do this today? I'm sorry that I forgot to pick you up from school, but did you really have to prove yourself by going out and getting arrested? For what, for drugs; are you crazy?" _

_He doesn't answer, but her question was meant to be taken rhetorically anyway. _

"_What would your father think if he was here to see this?" The statement falls from Shelby's tongue before she has the opportunity to control it; Hiram was uncharted territory, they both knew that._

"_Who cares," Noah responds in much the same manner as Shelby had been expecting. "He's not here to see this, and he never will be."_

_Tears well upwards and into Shelby's eyes; she can't tell if they're tears of anger, disappointment, or tears that are representative of the ruins that had become her family… Probably a little bit of a combination of all three, she quickly thinks. _

"_Fine," She compromises harshly, "If you're not going to think of yourself, and you're not going to think of your parents, then at least consider your sister… She would be heartbroken Noah, sitting in the hospital knowing that you went to jail over something so stupid… again." _

_ "Rachel's in the hospital?" Noah forgets himself temporarily and reacts to his mother's statement, turning towards Shelby with wide, fearful eyes for but a brief second before he realizes his stance towards disconnecting himself and his eyes fall, dull and lifeless, once more._

_ "She's going to be okay." Shelby assures him quickly although she is not so certain of her own words herself. "But Noah, you better clean yourself up and you better do it fast… for Rachel, if not for anybody else." _

_Noah's eyes connect with the wall, staring in a stone silence, a stock stillness that lasts for several minutes so that Shelby can't help but be hopeful that he's at least considering her words before finally, just as Shelby is starting to believe that he isn't going to respond, he does._

_ "Who cares about Rachel," Shelby is so taken aback that she stumbles backwards, not even the tight grip that she's retained against the bars of her son's jail cell helping to keep her upright. "She's not my responsibility, who cares about anything."_

_ He shifts his body until his back is facing his mother in its entirety, trying desperately to disappear as much as he can within a small 10x10 holding cell… Shelby's eyes linger, focusing in on Noah's broad back as she evaluates the son that she no longer recognizes for the briefest of moments…_

_She can't remember the exact moment in time that her son had stopped approaching her for advice, had stopped asking her questions regarding the layout of the world, had stopped being her little boy… She can however recall the sudden sense of emptiness that she could never quite pinpoint until now, a hole that had told her that something had gone missing while her disenchanted mind refused to allow her to believe what that something truly was, although deep down she had known all along._

_ She had ignored Noah for just a little bit too long, had refused to listen to him until now, it was too late… She has never regretted anything more in her entire life. _

_Shelby turns on her heels, her feet clicking loudly with each step as she stomps back down the length of the hallway that she had just entered… She runs away, just like she always does because at this point, she doesn't know what else to do with her son, who else to turn too…_

_ She just needs time to think, to clear her head…_

_ "Mrs. Corcoran, your son…" The officer that had escorted her towards Noah in the first place breaks into a quick jog in an effort to catch up to Shelby's power walk, but the woman is on a mission; she doesn't stop, or even so much as slow down, instead, she simply calls her instructions over her shoulder towards the man. _

"_Leave him here." _

* * *

><p>"Mom?"<p>

The call isn't questioning, it isn't hesitant although Shelby is not used to being interrupted in such an abrupt manner in the midst of her glee club rehearsals… especially her last rehearsal before the team's Regional performance.

For the briefest of seconds, Shelby is taken aback by this unexpected twist in her practice… She scans quickly across her group of singers, eyes narrowing across the rows of students in search of the rogue teen who dared to interrupt her before she finally recognizes the source… There were after all, only two people in this world graced with the capacity to address Shelby as their mother, and the deep, brooding tone immediately tells her that the voice belongs to Noah.

Shelby silences her club in the midst of a song without so much as a word; she simply stops conducting so that gradually, the voices fade from a dull roar, to a straggling cry of her dimmer students unable to process the abrupt pause, confused as to why their usually stone hard coach was suddenly fleeing from them in her concern.

She rushes towards the door silently… Noah is lingering halfway between the hallway and Vocal Adrenaline's assigned rehearsal space… He looks out of breath, frazzled; clearly, he had been sprinting to get to Shelby's side, and suddenly, her heart freefalls into her knees.

"Noah what is it, what's wrong?" She forces herself to ask the question although she already knows the answer; but she's holding onto her hope, praying that she's wrong, begging her son not to speak the words that she knows he's about to…

"It's Rachel."


	16. Shelby Corcoran February 2001 Part II

**Yay, I'm back! Thank you everybody for your kind words, I had a much needed, awesome getaway. **

**Anyways, I know last chapter ended in a cliffhanger and that I'm being rude and keeping you hanging but this chapter is going to end up being important, I promise! And also, the next chapter is already half written so it should be up soon!**

* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – February 2001_  
>(Part II)<em>

* * *

><p>She's more than certain that hospital employees are trained to shuffle people from floor to floor, from room to room simply to try and keep them from reminding themselves just how long they have actually been waiting for news on their loved ones… or maybe even why they were even waiting in the first place.<p>

She wonders if this ever works, because for her, it certainly was not.

It has been two hours and forty seven minutes, and the only thing that Shelby has to show for her patience is the arrival of her husband and son, the promise that her parents would be on the next flight to Ohio, and a designated private waiting room, with walls so small that they created the allusion that the dry wall was actually creeping in on her closer and closer with each passing second.

Unable to wrap her head around the present and unwilling to acknowledge the past, the only thing that Shelby can consider is her very near future, her child's fate…

She'd had big dreams for her kids, dreams that she knew were just as vast as the ones that they would one day have for themselves… but suddenly, these images had come to merely taunt her; the picture of Noah basking in the honors of becoming a professional athlete, or a doctor, or a billionaire CEO, and the clearer, more exact vision of Rachel… nobody had ever seen her becoming anything less than a star.

People had stopped asking what Rachel wanted to be when she grew up the second that she was diagnosed, they had stopped asking Shelby about her plans for the girl… Every time she closes her eyes now, the only thing that she can ever see is an allusive outline of a man whose face is always obscured. He towers feet above her in the air, bends at the waist and jeers directly into her ear –

"_Welcome to the future, I'm so glad you could make it."_

Her eyes snap open abruptly; she hadn't even realized that she'd fallen asleep.

"Are you okay?" Her eyes clear slowly from their haze of sleep as her head spins in an effort to pinpoint the familiar voice that she quickly recognizes as that of her husband's, sitting directly across from her, eyeing her with concern.

He looks defeated, impossibly exhausted as he sits with a forced perfect posture; back stiff, knotted with waiting as Noah sits on the carpeted floor between his feet, playing tiredly with the set of matchbox cars that Shelby always kept in her bag for emergencies… just like this.

But he's getting bored; Shelby can see his eyelids growing heavy in a manner that tells the mother that he is in desperate need of a nap, just like they all were.

"Yeah," Shelby nods quickly but averts her eyes almost immediately, choosing instead to deflect her gaze to the window leading to the outside freedoms that she so desired… The way that the sun is setting immediately informs her that she has not been sleeping for very long; the sky is masked in a similar shade of red that she'd noticed the last time she'd checked, only this time, it finds itself transitioning rapidly into that deep, perfect blue, the colors meshing together in a manner that creates the allusion that she can actually see the Earth circling slowly about the sun, tickling off the idling seconds one by one by one.

She wishes that it would stop; the perceived sense of spinning is quickly making her dizzy and she can't so much as hope to find her way when she can't even see straight ahead in front of her…

"Momma…" She feels the soft hand gripping at her pants leg, tugging gently before she hears the voice; Noah vying for an attention that Shelby's not so certain she has inside of her at the moment.

"What is it honey?" She forces her eyes to turn downward upon the young boy as he sits in a comfortable Indian style on the floor before her, head tilted upwards so that their eyes can meet; his confused eyes meeting with her worried, exhausted ones.

"Can we go home soon?" He asks, his voice ringing in a whining manner that has Shelby cringing before she can bring herself to stop the motion… She is forced to remind herself that her son was six years old and that he hasn't been home all day… He didn't understand why he has to be here, he couldn't, he was young, he was much too young…

But then again, he was also two and a half years older than Rachel, who didn't have a choice but to understand why she had to be here…

Shelby begs herself not to compare her two children who have so differentially defined themselves straight from the very beginning… They were two completely different people who, at the same time, had somehow managed to mesh themselves into being one in the same.

Comparing them wasn't fair; it wasn't fair to either of them… Shelby loves both of her children with an equal fervor, of course she does… She loves her children with a force too large to be described in words themselves, but she was terrified that current circumstance wouldn't allow for them to truly see this… especially Noah.

_She _knows that had it been Noah instead of Rachel, they would be in exactly the same place as they were right now, only reversed… She envisions Rachel staring up at her instead, wondering why they couldn't go home when she so desperately wanted to, wondering why mommy and daddy were giving her brother so much special attention, wondering why they had to be spending so much time in the hospital instead of playing, instead of allowing her to act like a regular child.

The problem is that she also knows that Noah can't possibly understand this concept in the same manner as her.

She worries about her son, of course she does, but at the same time, her worry for Noah often became overshadowed by a worry of an entirely different sort, that which she has permanently manifested towards Rachel.

It's impossible for her not to push aside Noah's needs, which weigh with such little importance as compared to Rachel's , it's difficult to incorporate time away from caring for her sick daughter to spend with her despondent son.

No amount of websites or books or pamphlets emphasizing the importance of giving the sibling of a child with cancer extra attention as well has managed to teach her how to properly manage her time and focus, and she's terrified of losing Noah, of having him develop a resentment towards her and Hiram and maybe even Rachel that would undoubtedly last a lifetime.

"No Noah, I'm sorry…" She shakes her head gently, "We have to stay here for Rachel." She suddenly wonders just how much Hiram has informed Noah of Rachel's condition, and even more so, how much the boy actually understood of the perilous situation…

She herself had barely found the strength to so much as open her mouth to greet her two boys upon their arrival… this is the most that she has actually spoken in more than two hours now.

"But I want to go now!" He stomps his foot dangerously and Shelby can't help but to wonder why she hasn't predicted this… A tired, hungry, completely depleted Noah has historically proven to have the potential of making all of their heads spin even on the most stable of days. "We always have to do things because of Rachel! Even a day that was supposed to be just for me and daddy is about stupid Rachel!"

"Noah Corcoran, you watch your mouth!" She scolds her young son, "I don't want to ever hear you talking about your sister like that again, do you hear me?"

Shelby begs herself to remain calm, but the only thing that she can think about at the moment, was just how much Noah would regret his statement should he never have the opportunity to take it back.

"We've talked about this Noah," She explains through a handful of steadying, deep breaths, "Your sister is sick and tonight she is especially sick… We need to be here for her even though I know that you're tired and I know that you want to go home, but Rachel is going to need us to be here for her right now. I need you to be a big boy for me tonight, Noah… please."

Her final tone emits as more of a plea than she'd initially anticipated, the pressures of her son's insistency towards acting out at the worst possible moment gathering more of a stranglehold against her already heavy shoulders than she would ever feel comfortable admitting.

"I don't care about Rachel!" Noah shouts, his voice bouncing off of the walls and straight back into Shelby's ears in a manner that makes her tense, "I wish I didn't even have a sister anymore!"

She is barely processing her six year old son's gut wrenching words that he could never understand the full implication of before she sees the flash in the corner of her eye; an extended arm flying so quickly through the air that she can't possibly follow its motions, can't comprehend its motives… And then she hears the crack of flesh against flesh and she realizes with a bout of shock that's replaced quickly with a surge of anger that Hiram had just struck their son clean across the face.

"Don't you ever say that again, do you hear me!" Hiram's voice is practically drowned out by Noah's wailing sobs as the combined noise circulates about the room in a manner that has Shelby's head spinning.

"Hiram!" She sounds appalled by her husband's actions, but seems to have come down with a sudden bout of lockjaw that remains adamant in its refusal to let up long enough to allow her to express her distaste for his means of punishment.

Her words burn inside of her chest as they build so numerous, so impossibly large that they get congested within the fragile tissue and never seem to find a way to pass through and onto her tongue… She's rendered silent, and by the time her body's muscles relax once more, Hiram has already strode across the length of the room, storming into the hallway without so much as a word, slamming the door forcefully behind him.

Her anger locks itself inside of her very blood cells, hoarding the space normally designated for oxygen so that each breath quickly begins to sting more and more in a manner that leaves her dazed, confused and completely unsure of what to do…

Her arms naturally reach outwards and towards her weeping son so that she can't help but to be glad that her instincts can guide the motions that her conscious thoughts cannot seem to properly grapple with at the moment.

Tears are dribbling softly from Noah's eyes, drenching his cheek, reddened deeply with the hand print that Hiram had just left across it…

Shelby clutches her son to her chest, trying desperately to provide comfort to the both of them as he wipes the tears gently away from his face with her thumb only to have them fall harder, fall faster so that suddenly, Shelby can't help but to feel as if she is positively drowning inside of them…

No matter how hard she is begging herself to continue swimming for her very life.

* * *

><p>It's only been a handful of minutes and still, Shelby is, maybe foolishly, expecting her husband to return at any moment.<p>

His absence is prominent, it tears through her very gut in its reminder of just how distant the young family has become in the past months… She doesn't even recognize Hiram anymore; her husband, her best friend.

She is still clutching firmly onto Noah, holding him more firmly than anything that she has ever held onto in her entire life, but he sleeps softly against her chest, his breathing having finally managed to even out after his sobbing fit had very nearly closed the fragile lumen of his throat in its entirely… much as it had done to hers.

She has been staring at the wall for minutes that feel like hours; she can't look at her son, she can't look out the window towards the people shuffling about aimlessly in the darkness, she can't look at the door for fear of what she will see coming through it… So instead, she looks at nothing and reckons that maybe that might be the easiest way to go about things.

When the door finally does click in its warning, she can't help but tense, feeling her son instinctually reciprocate her actions, even in his sleep… A natural response to the comforts offered by his mother's arms taking a sudden turn for the worse…

Her initial thoughts, desires even tell her that this will be Hiram returning… She has after all, been waiting so long for news of her daughter's condition that she has simply convinced herself that it will never come.

She can hear the heavy sound of footsteps approaching, but still, she refuses to avert her eyes from the spot in the wall that she has since burned a hole through, so focused that even her peripherals have shut themselves off for lack of use.

She's considering the multitude of possibilities for the things that she can say to Hiram once he has approached her with what will undoubtedly be a tear-filled apology regarding his loss of cool as well as the final understanding that taking his anger out on their six year old son will do nothing more than make things worse than they already were.

"Shelby?"

She had been anticipating Hiram's familiar voice with such a prominent certainty that she's taken aback by the formal tone of Rachel's primary oncologist…

Her eyes finally double take away from their spot against the wall and suddenly, she's shooting so quickly to her feet that she nearly dumps the sleeping Noah onto the ground below before her reflexes kick in and tighten the grip that she has below is thighs…

He rolls over in his sleep, but does not wake up… Shelby is silently grateful.

"Dr. McCarthy…" She whispers but still, her tone is urgent, "How is she?" Inside of her arms, Noah shifts in a manner that places a painful amount of pressure against her hipbones, his arms reaching upward to wrap around the back of her neck as he presses his face even firmer into the joint between her shoulder and her neck… Suddenly, she's feeling as if she is even more impossibly constricted than before, her ribcage screaming in protest against the pain that she can't tell whether or not is originating from Noah's slim body, or the sudden, gaping hole inside of her chest.

"Where's Hiram?" The doctor doesn't address Shelby's inquiry immediately, but his tone is morose and solemn so that Shelby can immediately tell that whatever news he has, it's not good. "I think that it might be best if he was here for this as well."

"He… he went for a walk." Shelby lies easily but her voice is abrupt… She can only pray that the doctor will mistake this for her desire to know about Rachel's condition faster rather than suspect that Hiram had just exploded from the room in a burst of anger. "He needed to get some fresh air."

The man simply nods, his prematurely graying hair bobbing slightly in the motions as his sharp, prominent blue eyes narrow down upon her… She can see the empathy behind him, the previously formulated apology that has her heart burning with grief before so much as a single word has escaped his lips.

"Would you like to wait until he returns?" He's stalling, Shelby can tell… She knew Dr. McCarthy; she knew that he was the type of man that avoided euphemisms that always cut straight to the point

Shelby silently wonders whether or not he takes the loss of a patient as a personal marker of his own failures as a physician… She hopes not because in terms of blame for their current predicament, Shelby hasn't even placed him on her list…

No, those slots of blame have been left designated to but two people only; her and God himself.

"No," Shelby tells him sharply, the word already on her tongue before the doctor had so much as had the opportunity to finish speaking. "No, please… I need to know. What's wrong with my daughter, Dr. McCarthy?"

He nods slowly, his eyes catching the light in a manner that practically forces her to catch that apologetic look once more.

"Please sit…" He offers, guiding her to a small row of chairs with a steady hand upon her shoulder that Shelby is secretly thankful to have…

She quietly debates laying Noah down upon the couch in an effort to allow him to sleep soundly before she sits, but suddenly it feels as if her hands have been layered with a fresh coat of superglue so that as she guides her trembling form downwards and into a random seat, she finds that her son is stuck against her body; she can't seem to find the means by which to let him go.

"Rachel has contracted a fungal infection that's relatively common in people with suppressed immune systems…" The doctor begins carefully, but this much, Shelby has already managed to figure out for herself… The risk of infection was simply too high for it to be anything else; she hadn't been expecting this, she had been anticipating it, the only lingering question left now was just how serious it was. "The lumbar puncture that we performed in the ER has confirmed a type of fungal meningitis known as cryptococcal meningitis."

For a brief moment, Shelby feels nothing; she is too busy racking her brain to gather together all of the information that she actually knows about meningitis, but suddenly, she finds herself coming up empty; she has nothing, nothing but the understanding that whatever this was, it was bad.

She doesn't even realize that her fingernails are steadily digging deeper and deeper into the skin of Noah's back until he whimpers with pain, feeling the sharp pinch even through the fog of sleep and the fabric of his sweatshirt… Shelby retreats quickly for fear that Noah would perceive her actions as inflicting even more harm upon him at the hands of the people that he should be the most trusting of.

She attempts to compensate by squeezing him closer into her body but he makes no conscious effort to show that he's noticed.

"How… how is this possible?" Her question is a mere formality. She knows exactly how this is possible from a scientific standpoint, now it's a matter of her struggle to comprehend how this was possible as a whole… how was it possible that a life that she had so strategically arranged for her and her family had come down to this very moment; rock bottom.

"We're not entirely certain of the exact pathogenesis of the disease…" He must have understood Shelby's meaning, her asking for an answer deeper than that by which he could provide her but he speaks from a purely scientific standpoint as an escape… In this moment, he must separate his doctor side from his human side; a vital skill, as it turns out, to have whilst informing a mother that her four year old child is dying. "We believe that it may have begun as a lung infection and because of Rachel's lack of an immune system, the fungus could have easily broken away and travelled into the meninges without much resistance."

Shelby considers these microscopic entities for not the first time in the past months… But while previously embedded inside of her mind, she'd pictured tiny cancer cells sweeping throughout Rachel's bloodstream, taking over her body by storm, she now envisions these tiny pathogens, mutants aligning the space surrounding her daughter's brain, eating her alive from the inside out.

"How do we treat it?" Shelby asks tentatively as she shudders despite herself, terrified to be told that there is no means by which to treat it, that they'll simply have to wait in silence until the disease plays itself out, leaving Rachel to wither slowly away from them until finally, she will simply be gone altogether.

"First and foremost, we have to eliminate all of the drugs that have compromised her immune system to begin with… This means that she cannot receive any more chemotherapy treatments until the infection is completely cleared from her body." Shelby nods but forces herself not to think of the implications that keeping Rachel off of chemotherapy could have on her path towards remission. "She's on a broad spectrum antibiotic and we'll need to keep her on an anti-convulsant until we can lower her fever to prevent another febrile seizure…"

His voice drifts into a silence that hangs between them like a poisonous gas, leaving Shelby struggling to breathe… But she's not stupid, and she refuses to fall into a pit of ignorance, especially when it comes to her children. There's more to this story, Shelby knows this, and she needs this doctor to know that she knows this too.

"What is it?" She asks, regretting her words almost immediately alongside the understanding that she might not want to know the answer to her own question.

"Shelby… we had no choice but to put Rachel in a medically induced coma to try and help her body heal…" Shelby pretends not to hear the words but no amount of denial can escape the tightness that has suddenly erupted inside of her chest. "She's one hundred percent reliant on a ventilator right now…"

She sees the message inside of his eyes… He doesn't want to say what he knows she's thinking, so Shelby prompts him, because as much as she doesn't _want_ to hear the answer, she knows that she _has_ to.

"Is she gonna die?" The words sound so foreign against her tongue that they physically hurt as they come upwards and out of her mouth…She feels as if she's emitting a strong acid rather than an inquiry towards her daughter's fate, but the more she thinks about it, the less she can actually notice a difference.

"We're going to do everything that we can for her, Shelby." He's moving with a purposeful slowness as if holding on to every last second using every possible euphemism in the book was going to stop his words from hurting any less.

"And if you can't do anything?" Shelby doesn't know why she's pushing him. She already knows the answer, after all. She doesn't know why she's making things worse in her desire to physically hear him say it.

She might as well be asking the doctor to slap her clear across the face.

"Then we'll make her comfortable," He finally leans uncomfortably into uncharted territory, "Until she goes."

And there it was… Suddenly, Shelby understands why doctors have a tendency to ask parents to sit before they speak of a child's fate, before they've delivered nothing but bad news… It's not like it helped much in Shelby's case anyway, because even though she is sitting, she still falls to the ground.

Dr. McCarthy lunges impressively but still, he's just a hair too slow so that by the time he arrives at her side, she's already in a heap against the floor, her legs tangled underneath her like a soft pretzel, sitting upright only because the row of chairs she was previously seated inside of are supporting her back upright.

She makes a series of small, shrieking noises that she had never before heard emit from a human being let alone her own mouth…

It terrifies her, and through the haze of tears that she finds clouding her eyes, she can see Noah stirring in the chaos, sitting himself up as he rubs his eyes clear of sleep and stares straight at her, face pale and eyes wide with fear so that all at once, Shelby finds herself even more scared, no matter how much she's begging herself to stay strong for the sake of her son.

_'Calm down, Shelby,'_ She begs herself, but no matter what she tries, nothing seems to be working, _'You can't do this right now… You can't do this in front of Noah…'_

The room fills with a series of short cries, but this time, Noah's tears are not like the high-pitched wails that he had previously emitted following being struck by Hiram…They're deep, heavy in their staccato; he's worried, scared and confused… He's emitting a series of emotions starkly similar to her own; a six year old forced to act like an adult.

She's embarrassed for her inability to recognize just how grown up her son has been forced to become in these past months… how grown up both of her children have been forced to become.

"Breathe, Shelby, breathe…" Dr. McCarthy's hand is pressing against her upper back just as Noah's tiny body snakes across her mid-section, squeezing her close as the doctor coaches her in something so seemingly simple, so basic as inhaling.

Suddenly, she is becoming consciously aware of the fact that her throat is so swollen in her agony that she's actually turning blue…

But no matter how much she tells herself to breathe, no matter how much this doctor rubs his gentle circles into her back, and no matter how tightly her young son buries his body deep within her own, Shelby can't seem to suck in enough oxygen to inform Dr. McCarthy that she can breathe as much as she wants to…

The air is still going to run out on them all eventually.

* * *

><p><em>She's convinced that they make the neonatal intensive care unit ten degrees colder than the rest of the hospital on purpose… She's sitting indoors but she might as well be dancing naked on the streets in the frigid December air outside the way that the temperature has left her shivering. <em>

_ Goosebumps rise taut against her skin as she pulls at the robe the hospital has provided her following the abrupt delivery of her daughter even higher against her trembling shoulders… The motion doesn't go unnoticed by Hiram who's hands travel automatically to her upper arms, rubbing them up and down gently in an effort to produce a friction strong enough to generate a sense of warmth, but no matter how hard he tries, nothing seems to work. _

_ "She's so little…" Shelby's voice drifts across the cold air, marking it as the first noise that either parent has produced in several minutes… Her eyes don't leave her daughter, mere hours old yet already trapped within the confines of her incubator with no indication of how long it would be until she could achieve escape… if she ever had the opportunity to. _

_ "She's barely four pounds…" Hiram sighs, his fingers gripping around Shelby's arms a little bit tighter as they fall into silence once more. _

_ She can feel her muscles twitching beneath Hiram's touch, her maternal instincts screaming at her to reach out, to hold her child in the distinct emphasis of the lingering emptiness inside of her body now that the infant that had previously been relying on her was no longer there._

_ She has yet to be granted the opportunity to hold her daughter, the tiny infant having been whisked away the second that she had been born… Shelby finds herself already succumbing to the terrifying memories of her screaming at her doctor in the delivery room following the girl's birth, demanding to be informed why it was that she wasn't crying only to be met with silence…_

_They hadn't even bothered informing Shelby that her daughter was born in respiratory arrest until they'd finally managed to resuscitate her._

_Of course, at a mere twenty seven weeks, Shelby isn't sure what else she should have possibly been expecting… She knows that she shouldn't have been shocked when her insistencies of holding her child was merely met with a negative response…_

_ She couldn't even touch her, couldn't even reach out to hold a single finger against her daughter's impossibly tiny hand, which Shelby was certain couldn't even wrap itself around the entirety of the girth of her pinky. _

_ She looks nothing like Noah had when he had been born… Noah, her ten pound six ounce monster that had come out wailing his head off and hadn't stopped until finally, the nursing staff had released him early simply to retain a sense of peace and tranquility into the nursery…_

_ Shelby had been spoiled with her son, who was born so healthy, so full of life that she simply didn't understand the possibility of receiving anything less… _

"_She doesn't even have a name yet…" Hiram is determined in his refusal to allow Shelby to wallow in her silence… She wants nothing more than to linger in her quiet, but at the same time, she can't help but to think that Hiram does have a point…_

_ The parents had previously believed themselves to have an additional two months to come up with the perfect name for their daughter… Current circumstance has proven that they had thought wrong and now, they were finding themselves scrambling with the idea that they hadn't so much as discussed possible names yet. _

_ Shelby chooses not to respond; she doesn't have the heart to reciprocate, unable to find the words to inform her husband that although her daughter has yet to be named, she can't bring herself to concentrate on the task for fear that should she give a name to something so precious only to have it unfairly ripped straight from her hands, it would only undoubtedly make losing her even harder than it already would be._

_ She had pushed the notion of naming her child from her mind hours ago, refusing to accept the task as a form of rebellion against God himself in an effort to bargain with him that she would only grant this child with a name after he guaranteed that her little girl would be hers to hold for the rest of her life. _

"_I like Rachel," He finally informs her. _

"_You've been watching too much Friends…" Shelby shoots back emptily. Her voice is distant with little to no emotion behind it… _

_Hiram is actively making her attempts at distance increasingly difficult, but as it was she can't help but to flash her eyes across the hospital bracelet wrapped around her daughter's tiny ankle and envision the words "Rachel Corcoran" scribbled across it instead of the "Baby Girl Corcoran" that currently labeled her unnamed child._

_She feels as tears well into her eyes for what seems like the millionth time that day alone; a day that was supposed to be so happy, so celebratory suddenly made into one marked with fear for the future, fear for what should come of them should they lose this child. _

"_My mother's name was Rachel…" Hiram corrects her on her thoughts of his intentions, and for the first time since she had been born, Shelby allows her eyes to wonder away from her daughter and onto her husband. _

"_Your mother's name is Mary." Her eyes linger only briefly before they fall back upon the infant, her idea being that should their time together be limited by fate, she would want to ensure that she'd stared at the girl as much as humanly possible, fragment as many memories as she could into such a short life._

"_My step mother's name is Mary," Hiram corrects her and Shelby immediately curses her stupidity for forgetting that Hiram's birth mother had died when he was just a boy… But that wasn't her fault in its entirety… Hiram never spoke of his family, never. Shelby hadn't even ever met them; they hadn't even showed up to their wedding… "The only thing that I remember about my mom before she died is that she loved her name… She used to say that in the Bible, Rachel was a beautiful Matriarch… She was compassionate towards everybody, no matter who they were… She was extraordinarily caring, especially for her family… She would do anything for her family, she died for them… She was a fighter."_

_The explanation escapes from his lips no higher than a whisper as Shelby continues to eye the small girl before her carefully, analyzing the name against the child at every angle, testing it for the sake of wondering whether its perfection was that by which could stand a chance against the perfection of her daughter…_

"_Rachel…" Shelby breathes, testing the name against her lips… It sounds familiar, natural and in an instant Shelby knows that it is absolutely perfect for her little girl, and that in the long run, Hiram would be right all along…_

_There was a fighter somewhere beneath that array of skin and bones._

* * *

><p>Noah looks despondent even in his sleep and the tiny welt already rising against his cheek bone reminds Shelby that he has every reason to be.<p>

She'd only reluctantly let him escape from her arms, allowed him to sleep on the cot that the nurses had provided for them inside of the rather roomy, private hospital room within the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.

Shelby can only assume that this ward that she had never before been inside and never would wish a visit to on even her worst of enemies had been designed strategically with the idea in mind being that as long as your child was dying, they might as well go in luxury.

She knows that their intentions are probably nothing less than the best, but Shelby can't help but to see it as a slap across the face… She didn't need an elaborate array of special arrangements to be reminded that her daughter was dying right in front of her very eyes without a damn thing that she could possibly do about it…

She rounds yet another lap about Rachel's room… She has been pacing for hours but still, it hasn't allowed her head to clear itself any further… With every lap that she took, Hiram was still missing, Noah's cheek was impossibly bruised, and Rachel was still knocking at the very brink of death's door…

In fact, the reminder that there was absolutely nothing in her power that she could do to make any one of these scenarios better was, if anything, only making things worse.

Shelby sighs aloud as she rounds towards the small child, the one who has not moved so much as an inch since Shelby had first laid eyes upon her withering form what seemed like so long ago now…

She ceases in her motions only to pull herself forwards and closer towards her daughter where she rubs at the girl's hand, impossibly smaller in a combination of her youth as well as in the burden of disease that has since left her practically emaciated…

Shelby simply pretends not to notice just how far her hand can grip up the length of Rachel's arms while her fingers still manage to close in around each other as she speaks to her daughter in a manner that makes it seem as if she's actually expecting a response.

For a little while, she almost believes that she is.

"I need you to open your eyes, baby…" Shelby begs, "Come on Rachel, look at me…" The older woman's body is shaking in her anger towards the world and her mind immediately considers the seven stages of grief, the tell-tale guide that she had read inside of a terribly authored pamphlet the hospital had provided her in an effort to teach her how to cope with her child being diagnosed with cancer…

It hadn't helped, she'd thought at the time, but now as they rounded into what could very well be the bitter end, she can't help but to revert.

Step one was denial… Of course, she had passed this stage while she was still waiting inside of the emergency room for news… waiting for a doctor to come out and tell her that there had been some terrible mistake, that she had been dreaming all along… Of course, that never actually happened.

Step two was anger, and she was angry… she was angry at a lot of people for a lot of things but the presence of her anger definitely was not a question.

She racks her mind for step three, trying desperately to remember what will come next once her impossible anger passes, and suddenly, it hits her; bargaining.

"I'll get you anything that you want, Rach…" Shelby blurts suddenly, unsure whether or not this is her conscious mind making the promise, or her subconsciously trying to stick to the informed pattern, just trying to hold onto some consistency in her life. "I'll let you watch TV until your eyes fall out, I'll let you listen to my Barbra Streisand collection until the CD's don't even play anymore… You can eat ice cream for dinner every night of the week, I won't ever make you go to school or clean your room or do anything that you don't want to do… Please Rachel; please… come back to me."

Shelby waits for a response, but when it never comes, her eyes forcibly narrow in her determination; her stubbornness prominent, especially in the heart of her daughter to which she'd passed it along… She tries desperately not to think of the idea that cancer in itself might have been a trait that she'd passed along to her daughter as well…

"Give it to me, Rachel…" She whispers gently to the girl as tears begin to leak from her eyes; depression, she thinks somewhere deep in the back of her mind; the fourth stage of grief. "I know that you're tired, so give this to me… I'll finish this fight for you, you don't have to do it by yourself anymore…"

Her tears are now dripping impossibly down her face, developing into identical waterfalls that stream down the length of each cheek in a pattern that meets at the middle beneath her chin and falls downward, drenching her daughter's still form.

She wills herself into a silence, listening carefully as she falls under the distinct impression that she will be able to hear Rachel's emergence back into consciousness before she actually saw it, but she can't pick up on any traces of external evidence over the steady, mechanical humming of the machinery littering the room, and no matter how hard she stares, no matter how hard she prays, the visual confirmation that her daughter would be just fine never came.

Slowly, it's only the sound of her own breathing that can pass through and into her eardrums… She's hyperventilating, tears that mark both her sorrow as well as her lack of a capacity to draw in oxygen leaving her vision impossibly skewed.

Her head tilts upwards and away from Rachel just enough for her peripherals to assess her surroundings… It's barely a glimpse, a flash that appears within the very corner of her eye, but she can still identify Hiram lingering within the windows that lead in from the hallway and immediately, she wonders just how long he has been standing there… By the tears that are glistening across his reddened eyes, Shelby can only assume that it's been a while.

And suddenly, she finds herself so impossibly angry once more that she can't even see straight… The tears freeze inside of her eyes, she stands so stiff straight that her back strains painfully, but still, she finds herself literally marching from her daughter's sick bedside towards the door.

Hiram looks hesitantly towards Shelby as he lingers in the doorway between the hallway and Rachel's hospital room, unsure whether or not entering would lead him to a state of irreversible bodily harm…

Shelby seriously considers it, but still, she knows that she would never be stupid enough to try anything drastic with her son, still recovering from his last bout of parental violence sleeping soundly to her left, and her daughter, separated from her the world and laying on her death bed to her right.

"Shelby, I'm so sorry!" He blurts before she is even halfway towards him; his hands are raised in surrender, the terror on his face telling her that the only thing that he is currently missing is the little white flag waving around in the breeze.

Her eyes narrow dangerously but she's silent as her nostrils flail and she grabs him the shoulder, guiding him forcibly deeper into Rachel's room despite the fact that he was easily a foot taller than her, closing the door securely behind them.

Hiram's eyes don't leave Rachel's side once he is inside of the room, and he immediately separates himself from the outside world and practically floats straight towards her… Shelby remains silent, waiting to speak alongside the mutual understanding of a grieving parent…. Hiram still needs his moment with his daughter.

He's leaning so gently over Rachel's bedside, his soft hand caressing her bare scalp so gently that Shelby almost forgets the grounds by which she was so impossibly mad at him to begin with… He can't believe that her husband, this man that is leaning forwards, kissing their dying daughter's forehead with tears leaking from each of his eyes had struck their other child mere hours ago.

"I've been standing outside that window for an hour…" He speaks softly, initiating the conversation on his own terms but his eyes don't leave Rachel's form as he grabs onto her hand and nestles it gently between both of his own… "I can't see her like this… I can't see her or Noah like this. I'm a coward, Shelby…"

His eyes were impossibly sad; something deeper than simply the idea Rachel was so ill, that Noah was bound to be impossibly terrified of him for an untold amount of time… She'd known long enough, known him well enough to know when he was hiding something from her, and this was exactly one of those instances.

"Hiram, I know that you're scared, and I know that you're frustrated…" She regresses backwards no matter how certain she is that Hiram would like nothing more than to forget it ever happened. "You can't take this out on our kids though… They're hurting just as much as we are."

"I know!" He shouts, his voice more gruff, more harsh than she had ever heard before and Shelby realizes quickly that this is only because there are tears now cascading prominently down his face. "I've never hated myself more, Shelby, okay! Is that what you want to hear? My daughter is dying and my son is never going to fucking speak to me again…"

"Hiram, calm down…" Shelby cringes, looking quickly over her shoulder towards Noah in an effort to ensure that he was still asleep; luckily, he has always been a heavy sleeper… Without thinking, she finds herself checking on Rachel as if the mere sound of Hiram's voice would be enough to pull her from her medically induced coma… She wishes that it could be this easy. "This isn't the place; we need to be strong for both Rachel and for Noah."

"What's going to happen, Shelby?" He turns the conversation abruptly, however whether intentionally changing the subject or not, Shelby can't be certain, "I mean… if we lose her?"

"We can't think like that, Hiram…" She sighs after several minutes, her voice shaking as she attempts to emphasize that it's not that she can't think about it, it's that she doesn't want to think about it.

"We have to think like that! Look where we are, Shelby, look where she is!" Hiram's arm thrusts violently outwards towards Rachel's tiny, frail body, asking her to evaluate the dying child that she has called her own for the past four years as she could possibly forget that her life was ending before it had even had the opportunity to begin.

She hadn't anticipated this… When her and Hiram had decided to bring life into this world mere years ago, Shelby had envisioned the world atop their shoulders, spinning at their own will within the palms of their hands… In her most terrible of nightmares, Shelby hadn't pictures this outcome and no matter how much she tries to remain consistently positive, she can't help but to consider what Hiram was saying; what were they going to do.

"I don't know, Hiram…" She finally admits, her entire body physically shaking alongside the defeat that accompanied such a seemingly simple sentence. "I can't let myself think about any outcome other than Rachel coming out of this okay."

"I know…" Hiram nods and Shelby can't help but notice that his eyes are growing red once more as he tries desperately to hold the tears deep inside of his dehydrated eyes. "Me neither…"

"I feel like to think about this is giving up on her." She doesn't even realize that she's subconsciously inching closer and closer towards Rachel until her hand is grazing along the girl's brow so gently that she is barely touching her for fear that she would positively disintegrate beneath her fingers.

"We're not giving up on her…" Hiram assures her, his arm snaking across the back of Shelby's shoulders, pulling her in closer to him as he grabs at Rachel's hand so that the three are suddenly connected in a close, triangular shape, just hoping for the chance to pulse their own energy silently into their daughter. "We're letting her go… there's a difference."

"What if I can't?" Shelby chokes, disconnecting the circuit as she releases Rachel's warm forehead so that she can wipe a tear from beneath her eye, "Is that selfish?"

"I don't know…" Hiram admits, and Shelby can feel him shrugging against her body. "But if it is, than I'm guilty too…"

"So what…" Shelby sucks the tears back into her tired eyes and attempts to stiffen her body to stand a little bit taller, "If we lose her… do we… do we have another kid?"

"We can't replace Rachel, Shelby." Hiram's voice sounds serious as if he's concerned that Shelby is thinking along the wrong lines of coping. He simply doesn't understand that while Shelby used to spend her time wondering what her life would be like with children in it, she could now only wonder what atrocities would befall her should she be forced to fend without them.

"I know that," Shelby speaks confidently alongside the understanding that no child in the world could ever stand in the place of her beautiful, talented, ambitious, loving daughter so young, so innocent and still, left to die before she ever truly lived by the hands of a world much too cruel for a person so good. "But Hiram, I can't go back to having only one child… I won't."

He doesn't respond, he doesn't have to… Shelby knows that finally, he is starting to understand.

Her breaths are shuddering; she inhales steeply but still, she can't help to feel as if she's not actually taking in any oxygen…

The second that she closes her eyes, her mind begins to wander despite her insistencies not to let that happen, and suddenly, she finds herself wondering whether or not there was a threshold for granting wishes, prayers and whether or not there are some requests that are too large for even God himself to deny a person.

She realizes quickly that no, there is actually, no such thing as a prayer that was too intricate to go unanswered… she's seen too many parents lose children to this brutal disease, seen too many kids wandering about the halls of Lima Memorial Hospital, crippled by diseases that they were too young to even pronounce the name of, and finally, she finds herself truly understanding of the meaning of the phrase 'life's too short...'

Death doesn't have to give a fair warning; it doesn't have to ask for permission before it strikes, it doesn't owe any of us that… we simply don't deserve it.

Shelby was beyond praying, she had been for a long time. She refused to clutch onto a God that clearly wasn't there to find support that she knew couldn't possibly ever come… She refused to call this an act of God's will rather than acknowledging for what she knew it truly was; a tragedy.

Besides, even Jesus himself must start to get tired of listening to other people's problems all the time.

Yes, the way that Shelby was beginning to see things, Jesus had died for all of their sins once before, now it was their turn to take on some responsibility… She just remains unsure of what she had ever done in her life to have deserved leaving her child to pay for her actions.

"You should get some sleep, Shelby…" Hiram makes the request but Shelby merely shakes her head adamantly in her refusal… She's already come to terms with the idea that she was going to be watching the night become the day tonight simply because she suddenly finds herself needing the morning to serve as a reminder that the sun really does keep rising forever, no matter how much you don't believe this seemingly obvious fact during a particularly dark night before.

She could only hope that some more hope would come with this day than it had the last, and although she has since taught herself to like reality much more when it was all but a dream, tonight she knows that she won't be able to bring herself to fall asleep.

It was just much too early for her to say goodnight to her daughter, and she was more than certain that for her, it always would be.

* * *

><p><strong>Ilovepiedoyou<strong>** – Yay, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying!**

**Ballerina03**** – Haha, I know I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I try to avoid cliffhangers but this time I just couldn't help myself! Thanks for the suggestions and all your kind words, they're both much appreciated!**

**Readerforlife**** – Thank you! As always, of course :)**

**Gleek30**** - Oh, wow, thanks for all of the reviews they were awesome! I'm glad you're enjoying so far, just to answer a couple of questions, Rachel is starting to go downhill fast but she's definitely the type of person who's too stubborn to miss something like Regionals even if it's all gonna come back to bite her hard. Shelby is trying to give Rachel some more freedom from being constantly worried about her but she's definitely picking a bad time to do it. These chapters take place about a month after Noah joined glee so they did perform in Sectionals but not Regionals yet so the next chapter is going to focus on the actual Regionals performance and everything that goes down there. Also, I think that both Noah and Rachel will have the opportunity to be heroes for each other, but there is a lot of things that happened in the past that we'll learn about where Noah feels like Rachel literally saved his life completely so he is going to feel obligated to reciprocate the actions once Rachel gets too sick to fend for herself (with some bumps in the road, of course I can't help but to pack on my angst!) Thanks again for all your awesome words, they were great and very, very appreciated! P.S. I liked the Sandlot reference :)**

**Sillystarshine**** – Ahh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't help myself with the cliffhanger hahaha. Thanks the most, I'm glad you like it!**

**CloudGazer15**** – Thanks for your awesome review as per usual! Shelby and Noah and even Rachel definitely know that something's up but it is Rachel and she's just as stubborn about her singing as she is on the show so she is not going to miss her Regionals performance without a fight no matter what happens.**

**Crazy-Wee-Cat**** - I'm keeping you all hanging for just a little while longer because I am evil hahaha. Thanks as always for your review!**

**SolemnxHypnotic**** – What can I say I'm a sucker for some good angst :) Thanks for everything!**

**Angela**** – Yay, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying!**


	17. Shelby Corcoran October 2011 Part II

**Okay, I'm back again with the final chapter in Shelby's POV for this part! Noah is up next and I've got a few chapters planned for him so hold onto your seats!**

**And also real quick, I just wanted to take the time to extend an enormous thank you to everybody that has been reading and sticking with me through this story, you have no idea how much I appreciate it so THANKS!**

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><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – October 2011

_(Part II)_

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><p>Through the thick fog that has since resonated in a thick layer across the sensitive membrane of her eardrums, Shelby finds herself only vaguely aware of the immediate repercussions of Noah's abrupt entrance into Vocal Adrenaline's practice space, strategically designated on opposite ends of the school in an effort to avoid a sense of awkward interaction between the self-proclaimed bitter rivals…<p>

Although Noah, it seems, had come up with his own plans…

"He's spying, Coach Corcoran!" The voice rings through her ears and has her stomach lurching with the idea that a confrontation between her son and her lead, who just so happened to be a bigger drama queen than even Rachel, was the absolute last thing that she needed right now… Shelby will never admit this out loud, but she happens to know for a solid fact that her son possessed the ability to decimate Jesse St. James in a heartbeat.

"Be quiet, Jesse!" Shelby silences the boy in her warning, teaming it with a look that could kill, ensuring the young superstar's silence, but she doesn't allow herself to allot too much time on focusing on anything that does not involve her getting to her daughter's side as quickly as humanly possible…

Although she doesn't know the specifics, she does know that anything that could have possibly brought Noah to her couldn't be good and Shelby doesn't take kindly to being left out of the details; especially when it came down to her children.

"Everybody take a break; ten minutes!" Shelby shoots her vague instructions over her shoulder as she darts for the exit, ignoring the confused groans from her students behind her as she grasps onto her son by his muscular shoulder and guides him gently; yet hurriedly out into the empty hall.

She chooses not to stop, chooses not to wait for an explanation; instead, completely devoid of her own control, she finds herself quickly moving down the length of the hallway, her feet increasing in speed with every step that she takes until she finds herself practically running to the point that even Noah struggles to keep up behind her, even if he is a trained athlete and she, wearing a set of uncomfortably restricting heels digging painfully into the every crevice of her feet…

"What happened?" Shelby only demands her explanation after she's allowed herself several seconds to clear her mind, free her thoughts… But by this time, she is already ducking into the crowded lobby, expertly dodging frazzled attendees, ducking through the groups of people slowly venturing towards the auditorium in an effort to take their seats before New Directions was scheduled to perform in mere minutes…

"We were running through our show one last time," Noah explains as he follows the pattern of his mother's strategic weaving, making his way through the crowd assisted only by the expertise of his years of football training. "Rachel's been kind of dodgy all week but she's been putting it off to stress and exhaustion and that kind of thing… Then in the middle of our last song, she collapsed…"

Shelby loses the strict focus in her running pattern with the onslaught of panic brought on by her son's words… In her moment's hesitation, she feels an overwhelming pain in her shoulder as she bounces straight off an unsuspecting elderly woman who scoffs in her response…

"She collapsed?" Shelby ignores the woman, glaring at her angrily as she stumbles only briefly to regain her footing before continuing down the hallway's length without so much as a second glance back. "Did she lose consciousness at all?"

Shelby forces herself to fall beneath the veil of professionalism; the only tool she has in maintaining her sanity as her instinctive maternal concern begins to override her rationality with illogical, if not psychotic fear… But she has to ask; the question lingering against her lips reminiscent of the idea that she hadn't been quite convinced that Rachel had been entirely truthful with her the night prior when she'd told Shelby that her fall was caused by her merely slipping on some water in the bathroom…

"No," Noah insists quickly, shaking his head vigorously as his breaths begin to grow labored in a series of pants that indicate that not even his athleticism can compete with Shelby's current sprint…

"Well did she say anything?" Shelby continues her incessant questioning, shouting the inquiries over her shoulder as she continues to pull further and further ahead of her son although a part of her can't help but to wish that she could simply follow the leader for once and have somebody guide _her_ through this God forsaken life…

"I don't know…" Noah's voice is distant, she can hear the guilt reverberating through it through the pounding of her own heels against the tile floor combined with the sound of blood pouring into her ears…

"What do you mean you don't know?" Shelby has not particularly meant to get testy with her son, but her mind is currently frantic with the possibilities of what is currently happening with her daughter; she is quickly learning that she is not to be held entirely accountable for her emotions at the moment…

"I ran to get you!" Noah counters his mother's claim, his voice attuned with the hint of offense towards her yelling at him, but she doesn't take it to heart… The situation is precarious, they are all a little bit on edge; even more so than usual.

The second that she had seen her son inside of that rehearsal space, she'd found her brain pinpointing on but one distinct possibility, and although she doesn't want to think about the chance, it's something that she… that her daughter can't afford her to regress…

It was the reason that Shelby had a panic attack every time Rachel so much as presented with a single bruise; even if Shelby had watched her walk into the countertop the night before. It was why she whisks the girl to the doctors every time she so much as comes down with a sniffle in the midst of allergy season…

While there had been a point in her life, what seemed like eons ago in which cancer had been the last plague that she could ever envision befalling upon one of her children, that time had since come and gone…

Cancer, it seemed, was the only possibility that Shelby could consider anymore… it _had_ to be.

There was no room for naivety, no room for her to catch herself in the blissful ignorance of remission… The truth of the matter was that Rachel was supposed to have relapsed four years ago.

Shelby can't help but to consider it, to look back upon that moment almost four years ago now where a handful of professionals had been called in to poke and prod at her daughter, to review, analyze, study and research Rachel's extensive lab work down to the very last chromosome… And they had all said the very same thing. Rachel's genes had been mapped precariously into a clear-cut path of destruction, and no matter at what angle they'd looked at it, things simply did not look good for the young singer.

Four years ago they had started her on the Imatinib trials, what had, at the time been a relatively new treatment option for children in Rachel's particular predicament with the hopes that the young child's genes would merely shuffle their way back to normal on their own accord, leaving little to no lasting damage behind.

For the first year they had watched her like a hawk. She'd been forced to go for blood work daily, weekly scans, painful biopsies once a month…

Day after day, it was all the same; doctor's leaving the small family with the expectation that Rachel would be in the midst of a full-blown clinical relapse within weeks… maybe months if she was lucky.

But month after month had passed, bringing nothing but clean results, and with time, months had turned into a year, and one year had turned into two years with nothing left to show for it but a consistently clean panel of lab results…

After three years, their routine had filtered into nothing more than what it had been before Rachel's molecular diagnosis, and finally, after four, they had officially declared that Rachel had actually beaten the odds, fallen through the cracks of what had initially been guaranteed relapse… People were publishing studies based on her results, drug companies and research centers celebrating the achievement that had been their own just as much as it had been Rachel's…

And Shelby had foolishly found herself raising her hopes in a manner that went against absolutely everything that she believed…

When Rachel had been four years old, suffering through chemotherapy treatments, radiation, immune therapy and the eventual stem cell transplant that had ultimately saved her life, Shelby had quickly learned to never set standards towards her daughter's recovery…

When the doctors had told her that Rachel was progressing well, Shelby had ignored the bubble of hope that had spread across the center of her chest. When they had told her that her young daughter was barely clinging to life, Shelby had given herself but one set time of day to mourn, to cry… and that was only to be done in the deepest of solitary confinements.

She had refused to set any expectations towards the road to Rachel's recovery so that ultimately, Rachel would have no choice but to beat them all.

Her moronic transition away from this practice had begun six months following Rachel's final chemotherapy treatment, when Shelby had woken up one morning truly believing that everything was going to be okay for a change…

One year later, Shelby had actually allowed herself to begin picturing Rachel on her tenth birthday, her twentieth, fiftieth…

When Shelby had dropped Rachel off for her first day of school when the girl had been six years old, Shelby had envisioned herself stressing on the telephone with a group of loan sharks demanding payment as Shelby struggled to keep up with Rachel's college tuition, and she smiled.

When Rachel had been dressed in a white tutu for her first dance recital when she was eight, Shelby had allowed herself to picture her daughter in a wedding dress, and she cried throughout the entire performance with the realization that this image might just be one that she'd actually have the opportunity to see…

Shelby had established these expectations… she had been a fool to have done so, and suddenly, she finds herself starting to remember why she'd stopped in the first place; suddenly, she was starting to remember what the true meaning of the word _disappointment_ actually meant…

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><p><em>Shelby Corcoran was destined to spend the rest of her life alone.<em>

_This is the impression that she is beginning to get anyway, as she finally returns to her home following her spending half of her day in the hospital with her ailing daughter and the other half in the police station with her delinquent son; both of whom forced to remain where she'd left them, just out of her reach, slipping through the cracks of her carefully cupped hands…_

_To say that today had been a long day would be the understatement of the century. _

_The house is uncharacteristically silent in the absence of her two normally impossibly rowdy teenagers and Shelby finds herself slamming the front door closed simply to allow a noise to echo down the entirety of the length of her block, silenced in the late night hours… Or, as she should more accurately say, the early morning hours. _

_ She is exhausted… she has been exhausted since noon, ever since Rachel's routine doctor's appointment had become an abrupt hospital visit… The day had only proved to have become more draining than anything that she could have possibly imagined when she'd woken up earlier that morning; it seemed like days ago now, years even but she knows that there was nothing more that she could do now other than to stay up the entirety of the nighttime, worrying frantically about the two children that currently weren't with her, the ones that she had left behind._

_The second that she finds herself masked behind the private veil of her empty home, Shelby throws her purse in a fit of rage towards the living room couch, her arm projecting the accessory with such a force that she misses her target by a mile, the bag flinging so aggressively that it soars straight past the sofa where it slams harshly against the wall, quickly becoming a firework in the explosion of its contents, which quickly find themselves strewn about the room, littering across the length of the floor._

_ She watches in an apparent slow motion; her clutch soars an impressive distance towards the mantelpiece that borders the fireplace that they have never actually used and strikes a framed photo propped up against the wall of her and Hiram, Rachel and Noah, taken so long ago now._

_ The frame tilts dangerously but Shelby makes no actual move to catch it… the thing had already experienced its fair share of abuses, the first time being when Rachel was four years old, the day that Shelby had raced her to the ER following her contraction of the infection that had almost killed her in the midst of her chemotherapy treatments… The second time had been at the hands of her son, not too many years ago now, when, in an angry fit of rage directed towards his deceased father, he had thrown the thing clear across the length of the room…_

_ She doesn't even know why she bothers to re-frame the thing anymore, and as it teeters slowly and ultimately plunges the five or so feet down to the ground below, landing against the carpeted floor with a thud and a resounding cracking of glass, she can't help but to think that she probably won't bother doing it again._

_Maybe this is a sign. _

_She approaches the shattered image cautiously, not bothering to organize the spilled contents of her purse just yet as she hovers above the broken frame and stares downwards…_

_ Her eyes lock automatically upon the image of Hiram; the man that had betrayed her, the husband that had irreparably damaged her heart, her family… Her eyes narrow upon his smiling face, frozen in time; the only means by which either her, or her children would ever have the opportunity to see him again…_

_ Tears well slowly against the undersides of her eyes… She is so torn between her emotions; fear, anger, the overwhelming desire to see her husband again, to have him assure her that everything is going to be alright, that she finds herself physically shaking beneath the pressure of the looming image, obscured only by her own hovering shadow…_

_ "I need you, Hiram!" She shouts suddenly after an extended bout of painful silence, her voice carrying across the length of the house in her outburst so that all at once, she's almost glad that her children weren't here to witness their mother having a full-on nervous breakdown. "I can't do this by myself anymore, I need you… Please!" _

_ The previously welling tears begin to fall with a stinging force as she pauses as if actually waiting for a response to come from her dead husband's photo… Deep down, she knows that it's impossible, but for some reason, his lack of coming to her aid just makes it hurt even worse._

_ "Our kids need you, Hiram!" She screams in an entirely different approach, her harsh, angry tears stinging at her eyes as she finds her face swelling with rage towards the mere idea that Hiram had left them behind all these years ago, that he had left their most precious gifts to the world selfishly, without accurately predicting that it would lead their son to a path of self destruction, their daughter to an inevitable relapse. "You left us when they needed you the most!" _

_ She waits for him to walk through the front door and apologize; a concept that is not foreign to her… She has waited for him every day for the past seven years, and like every other day, tonight proves to be no different; he never comes. _

_She pauses in her ministrations only to survey the damage that her overturned purse has caused; the clumped, unorganized mess within the center of the living room floor… And suddenly, in Shelby's eyes, the strewn contents, the broken glass of the discarded picture frame isn't enough…_

_ She is overcome with a sudden urge to destroy everything foolish enough to cross her path… Nothing can be spared; nothing can be immune to the path of terror currently blossoming deep inside of the very center of her chest._

_ She picks up the first thing that she can wrap her hands around; the poor, innocent lamp resting on the small side table beside her, lifting it into the air with such a force that she rips the plug straight from its outlet…_

_ She hurls the device across the room, throwing it with a power that she hadn't previously believed herself capable of, and as she watches the fixture shatter against the wall, shards of the antique device littering the carpet, she suddenly understands where it is that her son had inherited his temper from…_

_ Shelby lingers in her satisfaction towards the remnants of what had once been a wedding gift from her parents… Her heart swells with relief, but the feeling is only temporary, before too long, she finds herself quickly needing more devastation at her own hands, but one or two small objects not being nearly enough to fulfill her needs._

_ "You left us!" She's yelling at thin air, throwing anything that she can latch her hands on, her hopes being that should Hiram be hanging around in a ghostly entity or apparatus or whatever, watching her emit her path of destruction, she would have the chance to hit him with something… "You left us, and we need you now, Hiram!"_

_In under a minute, the room looks as if a hurricane has passed through it, Shelby's clear-cut path of devastation marked in the shattered glass, the toppled furniture, the general disarray that has since befallen the once spotless room._

_ She tires quickly; her chest heaving as she struggles to regain control of her breathing, her arms weak from heaving objects twice her size clear across the length of the living room… Her muscles feel like wet noodles, but its only when she can no longer bring herself to so much as lift another finger that she drops herself onto the floor, back against the wall, knees curled into her chest as she disregards the broken glass that digs into her skin, the blood dripping steadily from her palms as the tiny shards lodge into them…_

_ "Come back…" She begs softly, tears spilling unceremoniously from her eyes as she is forced to wipe them from her cheeks with her wrists as to avoid agitating her injured palms any further. "Please Hiram, come back…" _

_ The tears are pouring down her face faster than she can wipe them away, a culmination of an entire day's worth of events pooling into one large, final straw for the exhausted mother… She's choking on her own please for her husband's return, but she struggles to formulate the appropriate words through her own tears._

_ Her head is pounding, the blood circulating rapidly between her ears emanating in a vicious pain that radiates through her temples, behind her eyes, straight down the very length of her spine…_

_ And through each beat of her heart, each swell of blood rushing across the surface of her brain, she can almost swear that she can make out the response to all of her questions, her pleas… An array of angry voices erupts inside of her head, taunting her in the reminder that no matter what, they would be there to take absolutely everything that she has ever loved, everything that she has ever cared for…_

_And burn it straight to the very ground._

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><p>Shelby an immediate sense of overwhelming relief the second that she rounds a corner only to see Rachel seated upright, propped against a chair within the hallway with a water bottle clutched between her trembling hands, because despite the assurance her son had previously given her that Rachel had merely gotten a little bit dizzy, Shelby still couldn't help but to procure visions of finding her daughter crumpled in a heap against the ground, half dead or even worse…<p>

Rachel doesn't notice her brother and mother's abrupt presence immediately, instead, she finds herself too busy attempting to achieve a standing position in an effort to circle back into the rehearsal room, to complete her final run thru of their Regional's set list… But Finn Hudson is beside her standing guard, undoubtedly by Noah's request; every time she gets her ass so much as an inch off of the chair, he pushes her right back down into it.

Shelby finds herself insurmountably grateful for her son's best friend's presence, not for the first time over the years, and certainly not the last.

Courtesy of Finn's provided distraction, Shelby finds herself granted with an additional handful of precious seconds to evaluate her daughter and make a rough estimate of her condition before Rachel can notice her staring and make every attempt possible to cover any and every perceived weakness.

The girl is sheet white, pale to the point that it emits the allusion that Shelby can see right through her… The mother can easily make out the thin layer of sweat layering across her daughter's forehead, making the girl appear even more translucent than she already does as Rachel pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger, rubbing at her eyes so that Shelby can still see the pain in her daughter's face, even if it is half obscured by the girl's shaking hands…

The only redeeming factor that Shelby can currently identify is the perceived notion that there is at least a trace of color gradually seeping back into Rachel's flushed cheeks, presenting evidence towards the notion that maybe Rachel had merely succumbed to a sudden drop in her blood pressure brought on by a bout of dehydration, an exhaustion produced by nothing more than the idea that Rachel had chosen to skip breakfast that morning…

It was foolish to assume, one could even call it downright dangerous… Shelby knows this, but she also knows that Rachel has done nothing but be her own personal beacon of hope straight from the very beginning… She's determinedly refusing to give that idea up now…

"Rachel, what happened?" Shelby doesn't allow her eyes to linger unnoticed for more than a handful of seconds before she throws herself directly into Rachel's line of vision, squatting before the seated girl strategically in a manner that makes it impossible for Rachel to avoid looking her mother directly in the eyes…

They lock only briefly before Rachel retracts her gaze, but the direct line of contact proves easily to be but a second too long for Rachel to even attempt to make it out as if there was nothing wrong…

For a split second, Rachel's features catch the light in a manner that makes Shelby feel distinctly as if she's looking directly inside of a mirror… The younger girl distinguishes herself quickly however, with a distinct eye roll that she used to push her glare away from that of her mother's, where she turns upon her brother with an expression of blame that Shelby knows has everything to do with the idea that he had run off to get her involved immediately…

"Don't be mad at Noah," Shelby shakes her head forcibly, emphasizing the sternness behind her voice despite her worry, relieved that Rachel seemed to have missed the slight quiver behind her voice as her eyes dart straight back to those of her mother's… "He's just worried about you, Rach, and so am I."

"There's nothing to be worried about…" Rachel concedes confidently, the tone behind her voice telling Shelby that Rachel had been rehearsing this answer for quite some time… Sometimes, Shelby can't help but think that her mother had been a professionally trained actress at one point in her life too… "I just didn't eat this morning, that's all… Plus with all of the stress from the competition and this cold that I have…"

"That's crap Rachel and we both know it." Shelby's eyes narrow; she doesn't particularly mean to be getting this stern with her sick daughter, but Shelby knows that she can't play the fool any longer.

"Whatever," Rachel delivers a huff that nearly puts Shelby over the edge in her anger… She finds that her emotions aren't directed towards Rachel per se as much as they are on Rachel's stubborn personality… The younger girl understands the consequences just as much as the rest of them did… if not more so. "I have to go finish warming up, we're on in five."

"Sit down, Rachel!" Shelby finally snaps, her voice reverberating loudly and forcibly against the thin hallway walls… Of course, her young daughter doesn't find the time to respond appropriately to her mother's order because the words are barely out of Shelby's mouth when Rachel's knees begin to quiver around her once more, her body weight suddenly much too heavy for her thin legs to support…

Her knees buckle in either which direction so that she's quickly arranged herself into an awkward duck squat, halfway falling to the ground before three pairs of hands are darting towards her with the speed and precision of a hunting animal… Six hands grabbing her and pulling her upright and back to her feet.

"Hey, we've got you alright, you need relax…" Shelby's voice is exponentially softer than her last command towards her daughter been as she wraps her arms supportively across the girl's upper back… The first thing that Shelby notices is just how hot her daughter's skin has become beneath her touch, the second is the thin layer of sweat seeping across the girl's skin, staining even through the girl's thick dress, making Rachel's body impossibly slippery to the point that she nearly slithers straight from her, Noah and Finn's arms without even meaning too before the three manage to latch onto a more supportive grip that assists them to carrying Rachel back towards the chair that she gratefully accepts in her invitation to sit down.

"Rachel, you have to stop fighting us." Shelby's voice is emitting as a plea, desperate to have her child see things her way for once, to have her accept the fact that she was sick, that she needed to take care of herself… "I know that you think that performing today is the most important thing in the world, but you need to start considering your health."

"What…" Rachel's eyes widen as she processes her mother's intentions; the context of what it was that she was trying to tell her daughter. "No! I can't miss this competition!"

"Noah, Finn, do you mind staying here with Rachel while I pull the car around?" Shelby ignores Rachel's insistencies as she stands upright and establishes her own as the final say. "I'm taking Rachel to her doctor's."

"Sure, Mrs. C," Finn nods readily, prepared to adhere to his post as Rachel's body guard as Noah bobs his head absentmindedly in his agreement, silent in his ruffle of concern as he attempts to formulate his own opinions on the argument currently brewing between his mother and sister, struggling to chose a side.

"Mom, you can't!" Rachel yells, although she remains firmly planted in her seat, and although Shelby's back is turned to the girl, she can hear the tears behind her daughter's voice, a production of her desperation to perform, no matter what the expense. "We're on in five minutes, if you make me leave now we'll only have eleven members, there's no way we can find an extra person now… And if we don't compete we'll have to forfeit and if we forfeit than we'll be disqualified and then we won't go to Nationals and Sue Sylvester will disband us as a club and I'll never get into a good performing arts school or go to Broadway… I'll be nothing!"

"Rachel, calm down…" Shelby begs the girl as she begins to hyperventilate, her breaths hitching inside of her throat to the point that she can barely take in enough oxygen to sustain her aching lungs. "Breathe… This isn't the end of the world, sweetie."

"Please mom, I'll do anything…" She's wheezing, tears stinging her eyes in a combination of her desire to perform and the restricting tightness currently plaguing her lungs…

Guilt plagues the every surface of Shelby's body. Despite her insistencies to hold strongly, she can't help but to soften her resolve as she sees the desperation in her daughter's eyes… She tries to place into Rachel's position; she was once an ambitious fifteen year old too… the problem was, Shelby never had the history that Rachel had.

She considers carefully, the consequences of allowing Rachel to perform today, whether holding off a fear-fueled, heat of the moment rush to a doctor that would more likely than not only tell Shelby that Rachel was suffering from the flu for an additional fifteen minutes would actually make that much of a difference…

Shelby pauses, but it's for but a second too long… Rachel already knows that she's won.

"I just need to eat something real quick mom, I'll be fine…" Rachel capitalizes on her lead, and pulls herself ahead even further, waving an unopened chocolate bar that somebody had been smart enough to grab for her following her collapse in front of her mother's face, Shelby catching its motions so that she finds herself entranced, hypnotized by its motions…

She falters quickly, measuring her assertiveness as it fluctuates and reaches an ultimate low so that Shelby can't help but to wonder why, every time she does manage to convince herself to remain momentarily stern, her daughter still manages to slip from her radar once more and forces her to reconsider herself.

Perhaps Shelby was overreacting… Rachel was a kid, and kid's got sick all the time, Shelby knows this… But Shelby also knows that the implications of Rachel getting sick held such a larger possibility than it would for an average teen…

She's trying desperately to convince herself that everything was going to be okay but her maternal instinct is screaming at her relentlessly that this is just not the case… Something is wrong… she has never seen Rachel like this, not since… well; she didn't even want to think about that.

"Well than eat fast." Shelby sighs her instructions despite her better judgment, "You're on in less than five minutes."

Rachel's face brightens visibly in response to her mother's words, a hint of relief-filled color flushing against her skin as a smile stretches from ear to ear.

"I will!" Rachel agrees enthusiastically, ripping open the candy bar and taking an exaggerated bite simply to prove her point before she lifts herself carefully upwards and out of her chair, controlling her still slightly-shaky legs carefully as she takes a handful of tentative steps forwards, increasing her pace only upon finding that this time, she finds herself remaining safely upright on her own two feet…

"Thanks mom," Rachel exclaims, wrapping her arms gently around her mother's neck, kissing her cheek lightly in her gratitude… Shelby reciprocates her daughter's embrace gently, but still, she just can't bring herself to be as enthusiastic about her decision as her daughter was.

"You're welcome…" Shelby pulls out of her daughter's embrace, but keeps her hands firmly on the girl's shoulders as she eyes her carefully. "But remember what I said, okay? I don't care if I have to pull you out of here kicking and screaming, you're going to the doctor the second that this is over."

"Deal," Rachel delivers a single, firm nod of understanding. "I won't even kick and scream."

"You better not…" Shelby breaths steeply, she's trying to joke, but she's completely serious, still not entirely confident as Rachel rounds back inside of her rehearsal room with yet another exaggerated, confident bite of her candy bar in an effort to subconsciously prove to Shelby that she knows exactly how to take care of herself although Shelby seems certain that her child has absolutely no idea.

"Are you sure about this?" She turns the second that her son's voice registers behind her… He's standing, eyes thin as slits in his concern, arms crossed across his chest as he distances his feet strategically apart in a confident stance, his shoulders purposefully broadened in an effort to make him appear older, wiser, to prompt Shelby into taking his advice into consideration, to let her know that he is prepared to make decisions regarding his sister just as much as she is.

"No," Shelby admits quickly, "But keep an eye on her, I'm going to pull the car up quick so that I can take her home as soon as you guys are finished…"

"Are you gonna watch?" Noah falters slightly in his stance, his eyes widening slightly with the disappointment towards the idea that his mother was planning to skip their performance after everything that they had just been though… even if they were in the midst of a potential tragedy.

"Of course I'm gonna watch, Noah…" Shelby smiles and even manages a small laugh as if she's shocked that Noah would even think that she'd be considering missing such a big moment for her kids. "I'll even be routing you on."

"We're competing against you, you know…" Noah relaxes visibly; his voice ringing with that characteristic cheek that he is so well known for.

"Don't get smart with me." Shelby smirks, putting a gentle hand on her son's broad shoulder, giving him a slight push back towards the rehearsal room that Rachel had just disappeared beyond. "Good luck, I'll see you guys in a few, okay?"

"Okay…" Noah nods, but behind his eyes there is still a prominent concern… He's worried about Rachel, he's worried about Shelby, it was in his personality to do so… He has always had an overprotective, to the point of being overbearing sense about him, a sense that had only been exemplified by his father's death… But still, Shelby worried that he spent more than too much of his teenage years worrying about everybody else but himself.

"Noah, I don't want you to worry about your sister too much, okay…" Noah nods slowly, but Shelby already knows that his promise is empty. "Let me be the mom, let me worry about Rachel and you."

He's silent for the briefest of moments and Shelby can tell by the way that the muscles in his face twitch that he's trying desperately to settle his expression into one of neutrality so that she'll believe him when he responds…

"Okay."

"Noah, come on…" The two oldest of the Corcoran's turn simultaneously as the youngest appears once more in the doorway in an effort to summon her brother. "We're getting ready to go on."

Shelby and Noah glance quickly towards one another once more, their eyes beaming with an equalized expression that Shelby pulls away from first in an effort to keep Noah from lingering for too long.

"Good luck…" Shelby nods towards her two kids, giving them both a slight push in the right direction despite everything inside of her telling her to do nothing more than to pull them closer… Her fingertips just barely graze across their backs as they disappear in their entirety…

But the second that the contact is lost, Shelby is already praying for them to come back to her safely.

* * *

><p>The first thing that Shelby notices as she sidles quickly into the auditorium entrance is the members of her Vocal Adrenaline seated strategically in the back, arms crossed with scowls already written across their faces as they prepare to analyze the scope of their competition.<p>

Shelby bypasses them without so much as a second though.

She strategically places herself into a seat in the front row, directly in the center of the stage so that she finds herself even closer to the performers than the judges are… As it was, she can practically feel the acting celebrity judge, Sue Sylvester's breaths lingering on the back of her neck…

Her and Sue had never gotten along courtesy of the countless times that Shelby had endured being called to her office courtesy of her son's misgivings.

But Shelby forces herself to ignore Sue's ominous presence as she attempts to concentrate on the shuffling behind the drawn stage curtain before her; the shuffling that she is more than certain belongs to her children's glee club as they prepare for their set…

The longer that she finds herself waiting, the more anxious she gets, nervous towards the potential outcome of what this performance might hold, not as a threat towards her own glee club's victory, but for the well being of her ill child.

She cannot believe that she had actually allowed Rachel to go up and perform today; what the hell had she been thinking?

She is just wondering whether or not it's too late to turn back on her initial decision when the music blares through her ears in a confirmation that it indeed was…

She hears Finn's voice, shocked to find that it's coming from somewhere behind her rather than from the stage before her, and by the time that she has strained her neck just enough to catch a glimpse of Finn slowly making his way down the length of the main aisle to the tune of some old Journey song, Rachel has already emerged from her own set of heavy oak doors, making her debut in a manner that almost has Shelby forgetting her worry altogether.

Her daughter is flawless in her performance, her daughter was _her_ standing in that aisle, hitting every note with a perfect accuracy that she rarely even saw in her professionally trained coworkers while she was on Broadway…

Rachel's voice blends beautifully with her supporting singers, as the rest of her club emit a stunning set of backing vocals that bounce off of the auditorium walls and straight back into Shelby's ears creating the distinct impression that the noise is coming straight from the mouths of angels themselves…

Shelby beams with her pride; her eyes darting between Rachel and Noah, as equally as she can possibly muster with them being on opposite sides of the auditorium, but the closer that Rachel gets towards her, the more Shelby notices how much so her daughter's every concentrative effort is going towards forcing her body to cooperate just the way she wants it to…

Shelby's proud smile fades slightly, even as her daughter reaches a belting high note that Shelby herself isn't even sure that she can hit… She has always been impressed by her daughter's ability to dream even whilst she was wide awake, but suddenly, she was more nervous than ever that it would only prove to serve as an inhibition towards the things that truly matter the most.

Rachel can put on a descent front for the sake of her crowd, hell, she had even managed to briefly fool her own mother… Shelby knows that the way Rachel sees things these days is based upon the idea that she hasn't made it this far simply to fall off the face of the Earth…

But Shelby has begun to pick up on her daughter's missteps, the slight flaws from her normal patterns of walking, of breathing through her vocals… They were miniscule differences, mistakes that can be perceived by nobody other than the girl's mother herself…

Shelby is certain that she is the only one that has noticed Rachel's carefully hidden tremors, the way she balances her limbs in an effort to keep her center of gravity, the way her face sets to show that she is silently begging herself to push forwards… She knows this, because she seems to be the only person in the entirety of the audience whose worry is misguiding the fawning that the rest of the crowd seems to be directing towards her daughter.

By the time Rachel has finally made it to the base of the stage stairs, her faults have become more noticeable… With more and more prominence around her, Shelby can pick up the curious whispers, the disappointed comments of individuals questioning what has happened to the perfection that had since disappeared in her daughter's performance.

Rachel has become visibly shaken; she struggles to climb the stairs, finds herself missing simple notes… The crowd erupts into a small murmur as she finds herself nearly losing her footing as she crosses the stage, righting herself, but only barely… Shelby knows in an instant that she is not the only one that has noticed the sudden draining of what little color had been in her daughter's face to begin with.

The young girl is fighting tooth and nail against her own treacherous body, Shelby can tell this much, and she's more than certain that everybody else can too, as the slow ballad fades into a second familiar classic Journey medley, the music pounding through Shelby's ears in a fast, upbeat tempo that has the already worried mother frantic…

If Rachel had been unable to keep up with a song as slow as Faithfully had been, how was she supposed to withstand this?

The answer becomes quickly obvious in that she wasn't.

The second that Rachel begins to lag behind on the opening choreography, Shelby's heart leaps directly into the center of her throat… By the time her daughter is missing key vocal cues, collectively and irreparably throwing off the rest of her club, the mother is on her feet, rushing towards the direction of the stage…

She doesn't care of the consequences, doesn't care of the possibility of getting either their club or her own disqualified for her actions… All she cares about is getting to her daughter's side, and doing so quickly.

Guilt swarms frantically through Shelby's head; the only thing that she can consider is how quickly she had given in to Rachel's pleas to perform mere minutes ago, how her heart had been screaming at her to take Rachel home, to not even bring her to the competition begin with no matter how much Rachel fought, no matter how much her daughter would have hated her for the decision…

Her daughter's anger towards her would have been worth it, Shelby suddenly thinks, because the hate that Rachel would have had for her is nothing compared to the hate that Shelby feels for herself the second that she sees Rachel's legs turn into Jell-O…

All at once, Shelby seems to be watching in slow motion as the music swallows around her and fades into silence alongside the understanding that something was wrong; the band coming to the recognition several beats after Shelby has, and suddenly, the whole world is crashing down all around her…

She is still several arm's lengths away from her daughter, but even from her distance, Shelby can see as Rachel's eyes roll into the back of her head until, with a stab of terror, the only thing that Shelby can see are the whites of her eyes.

Rachel sways slightly on the spot, the teenagers surrounding her backing away slightly as if for fear of approaching in their uncertainty towards what was happening to their teammate, currently collapsing in the blaring spotlight, an entire audience before her to watch the show.

With an urgency in her eyes and panic in her heart, all at once, Shelby can no longer remember whether or not she had told Rachel that she loved her the last time she saw her, she can't think whether or not she'd apologized for all of those times that she had yelled at her, grounded her, made her feel badly about herself…

Suddenly, Shelby can't seem to remember any of the good times that she'd shared with her daughter, she can only think about how much she hates herself for all of the bad.

Rachel is clearly unconscious but still manages to remain upright for an impressive amount of time given the fact before finally, her body weight can no longer equalize itself against the pressures of gravity and she begins to fall forward with the force of a teetering tree, impressive for somebody so small.

There's a collective gasp that is emitted from the direction of the audience, but Shelby can barely register the noise through the haze of her adrenaline rush, through her desire to get to her daughter's side as quickly as humanly possible…

The journey from her seat to the stage directly before her seemingly takes forever as she hurriedly lists off all of the things that she could possibly remember about her daughter for fear that this would be her last chance to ask should she forget…

'_Her favorite singer is Barbra Streisand,' _Shelby tells herself quickly, '_Her favorite Broadway musical is Phantom of the Opera because it is the one that I made my debut on… She wants nothing more than to thrive in New York, her favorite movie is Funny Girl, her favorite color… what the hell is her favorite color?'_

Shelby's breaths hitch even further within her throat as she struggles to identify the detail that would be so seemingly insignificant to an outsider, the detail that currently meant the world to her… In fact, Shelby has made herself so convinced of the absolute worst that by the time she drops to her knees besides Rachel and finds the girl to be breathing steadily beneath her arms, she feels relief wash over her comparable to that experienced upon taking the first breath of air following being rescued from drowning…

Shelby pulls her youngest into her arms, she clutches her daughter's body firmly against her own chest, and it's only after Shelby is certain that Rachel is safe within the confines of her own arms that she recognizes the pandemonium that her daughter's collapse has caused the crowded room before her…

People are rushing from every which direction trying equally as hard to reach Rachel's side as Shelby had been moments before; some she recognizes, like Will Scheuster, a couple of the Regionals directors and judges, while others, she doesn't…

She can her son screaming frantically from somewhere above her as he calls for his mother's attention while struggling to push through the crowd, but she just cannot bring herself to spare a moment of it… Suddenly, she feels as if she is suffocating with the claustrophobia of the crowd around her; she wants to push them away, wants to scream at them for their refusal to give her daughter room to breathe…

But instead, she simply blocks it out, she squeezes her eyes closed firmly, clutches Rachel more strongly into her body and she shouts the one plausible instruction that she believes could possibly make any difference at this point in time…

"Somebody call 911!"

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><p><strong>Readerforlife<strong>** – And I really, really love your reviews! They're so appreciated so thank you!**

**Peggyjane**** – Your reviews are always amazing, I can't tell you how much I appreciate them! As devastating as it is that you've seen so much of this in real life I'm still glad that you can see similarities between this and actual family's stories, I try to keep it as real as I can although sometimes it can be tragic. Sorry to make you cry! And again, thank you so much for your beautiful words.**

**Gleekout4ever14**** – Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm sorry about your cousin and that this hits so close to home, it's a tough thing to watch someone you love experience.**

**Ballerina03**** – Thank you as always! I tried to crank this one out by Friday just for you, but I think I might just have kept you hanging even more (sorry about that). Have fun while your away, that sounds like a great trip but you'll be missed!**

**Baygirl123**** – Wow, thank you for all the kind words, they're ridiculously appreciated. **

**CloudGazer15**** – Yup, she definitely is and that's not going to end any time soon :) Thanks as always, I always love your reviews!**

**Maddieluvsdanny**** – Thank you so much, I'm honored, really. Glad you're enjoying so far!**

**Amandaes417**** – Oh wow, I don't think to say thank you is enough, but still, thank you!**


	18. Noah Corcoran October 2011 Part I

**Hello everybody! First and foremost, I apologize for the wait, but I have titled this week "Get your shit together and be productive" week with my reward being St. Patrick's Day so that is where I have been. Anyways, I don't have much to say (believe it or not), here is a stab at Noah's point of view, as always thank you for your constant support!**

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – October 2011_  
>(Part I)<em>

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><p>She has always been the fighter in their family.<p>

She has been the beacon of hope throughout the entirety of their extended family unit since the day that she was born… It made sense seeing as how Rachel Corcoran had spent the majority of her short years fighting for her life while he… well he had spent the majority of his short years fighting against a world so cruel that he could never understand how it was that his sister refused to allow it to bring her down, even after everything that it has ever done to her.

His fingers begin to ache with a distinct throbbing, and a quick investigation leads him to the understanding that its source is the fist that his hand has been clenched into for over an hour now, straining tendons and rendering muscles stiff as a board.

Using a slow steep exhale to unravel the painful phalanges, he suddenly realizes that his own breathing is the first noise that his ears have actually registered in over an hour despite the fact that he had been seated within a crowded, hectic emergency waiting room the entire time.

Noah sneaks a quick glance over his right shoulder towards his mother; he was worried about her… Hell, he was worried about her almost as much as he was worried about Rachel… Shelby has been staring at the same exact spot on the wall for the better part of the hour now, her eyes sheathed with a thin layer of tears although none of them ever fell… they never did.

It seems impossible now to think that a few measly hours ago, she was sitting in the within the frame of their bathroom door with a soft smile across her face telling him how handsome he looked in the suit and tie that he was still wearing for the Regionals performance that they had never even made it through.

Hours have passed but still, he can tell that his mother is counting off each treacherous minute one by one… Him, well the ticking clock had simply never been for him so that he finds himself overcome with the sudden urge to run, but there's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide…

He is suddenly aware of just how unprepared for this moment that they all actually were despite everything that had been pointing at them in bright shades of neon telling them that they should have been expecting it.

"Do you want coffee?" The sound of his own voice, after so many hours of mother and son wallowing in their silence shocks even him so that he's not the slightest bit surprised when Shelby jumps slightly within her seat.

"No Noah," Shelby sighs after several seconds with a slight shake of her head, her voice emitting as a whisper as if within the past several hours of her silence, she has since forgotten how to speak. "I'm okay."

"Okay…" Noah's voice dips with concern but Shelby makes no motions to indicate that she has picked up on his tone… Under usual circumstances, Noah wouldn't question the idea; his mother has after all, proven time and time again that she can read her children like a book. But today… well today he's gotten the feeling that she has lost her touch a bit. "Well, I'm going to go get some."

She doesn't respond, only watches as Noah stands to his feet, the joints of his knees and his hips cracking painfully with the strain of lack of use… Finally, she offers him nothing more than a slight, single bob of her head which Noah takes as an affirmative response that propels him forwards and towards the complimentary coffee machine resting in the far corner of the triage unit.

He doesn't even particularly enjoy coffee… he never could find it inside of himself to get past the overwhelming bitterness of the beverage, but suddenly, he finds himself at the back of a short line of hopelessly awaiting strangers, all simply looking for a free cup of something that can help to keep their minds off of their current predicament for another couple of minutes simply to have something to keep his hands busy.

Even several paces away from the seat and his mother since left behind, the future hangs ominously above his head, twisting like a knife inside of his gut every time he falsely assumes himself to glance across a familiar-looking doctor, every time he's convinced himself that they have been waiting long enough.

His heart begins to pound dangerously inside of his chest; suddenly, he finds himself impossibly mad, angrier than he has ever been in his entire life… The problem is, that he is mad at everything that he doesn't know; he can't decide who to blame, who to punish…

He wants to hit something, _someone_ in an effort to make it all better, but the only person that he can think to inflict physical damage upon was himself for being too stupid to realize that something was so terribly wrong with his sister.

Oh praise all you our lady of terrible guilt.

He knows that his mother is currently spending her silence wallowing in self blame, but he wishes that she couldn't… after all this was all his fault…

He should have been watching her more carefully, he should have pressed her more thoroughly the second he realized that something was wrong… He was the older brother, and for all intents and purposes, he was the man of the house; his mother, and most importantly, his sister, was _his_ responsibility.

And he had failed her.

He should have recognized such an abrupt change in Rachel, he should have noticed… He had gotten stuck in his lack of wanting to recognize that exact moment that things went sour, but now, he can't help but realize that it had only lead to things growing insurmountably worse… especially with the memories of his past suddenly striking him with the force of a bullet directly against his chest.

He knows that every now and again, he has a tendency to see things as being worse than they truly are, but mostly his view is accurate… He isn't certain why he had ever actually expected things to get any better… Forever and ever, this would be their lives, caught in an endless cycle, an incessant loop… He knows this now.

She was always saving him, Rachel was… It was simply what she did, it has always been in her character to be the hero… he just wishes that for once, he could possess the capacity to return the favor, that he could manage to pull his head out of his ass long enough to recognize when it was that his sister needed him the most…

He hates himself for his lack of a willingness to observe.

He hates himself for not being able to be the brother that Rachel deserves but more importantly, truly needs.

But most of all, he hates himself for his predicament, and for its ability to constantly mix and match his present and past while simultaneously reminding him that in the long run, there truly was no real difference between the two.

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><p><em>Noah Corcoran hasn't been this nervous about his first day of school since he was in kindergarten, but today, he might as well have been reduced back to his trembling, five year old self, practically pissing his pants with nerves as his mother pulls into the drop-off oval decorating the front entrance of Lima High School of Correctional Education.<em>

_ He's ducking just out of view from his position in the backseat, Rachel having claimed the front early, her face pressed up and against the window, eyes wide in awe as she takes in the scene as a whole; the large, light-brick building adorned with a grassless field sanctioned off with a layer of barbed wire fencing littered with hoards of young boys all dressed uniformly in their blue khakis and button ups – brandishing them as delinquent – lining up outside of the main entrance that leads into the school._

_ "You have to go here, Noah?" Rachel sounds astonished, but the older of the Corcoran children just rolls his eyes; his sister has not been making this transition towards spending his freshman year at a correctional high school easy, not ever since his mother had enrolled him this past May…_

_ She just has a knack for asking questions constantly, his sister did. She was just at the age, Noah assumed; a lively twelve year old who was always looking to learn new things… She never shut up._

_ "Rachel!" Shelby scolds her daughter harshly as she pulls the car into park directly in front of the school. _

_ "Sorry…" The young girl shrinks slightly within her seat, her cheeks flushing in an indication of her promised silence. _

_ "Do you have everything that you need, Noah?" Shelby asks, turning to face her son, her voice almost sympathetic as she struggles internally with the idea that she has to leave her son inside of this place._

_ "Yeah…" He mutters, his voice lacking of any emotion as he avoids his mother's eyes and slings his backpack around his shoulders, shuffling out of the car door and onto the desolate pathway leading up towards the main doors. _

_ "Well than have a good day, I'll pick you up at 3:00…" Noah simply scoffs; he already knows that there is no way in hell that he was ever going to possibly have a good day stuck inside of this place… Not today, not ever. "I love-" _

_ He slams the door shut before Shelby has the opportunity to finish her projection of affection. The last think that he needs right now is for somebody to hear her… He is more than certain that that wouldn't go over particularly well with this group of people._

_Noah scans his surroundings carefully; he's not exactly certain where he should be going or what he should be doing, but the group of boys dressed exactly the same as he currently was, and wearing the exact same scowls across their faces tells him that he should be getting on the line leading up towards the metal detectors lining the entrance doors. _

_ He tries to broaden his stance, tries to make himself as tall as humanly possible while simultaneously forcing his muscles to stand out as much as they possibly can in an effort to give himself a tough demeanor, to prevent somebody from approaching him, no matter what their intentions…_

_ "Nice hair, fag," It becomes quickly apparent that his attempts towards simply blending in with the crowd was not going to work as he hears the jeering directed from behind him towards his characteristic mohawk, accompanied with a soft pain as he's smacked upside the back of the head. _

_ Noah turns abruptly, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he eyes the kid responsible… He's bigger than Noah, by a significant amount too… He must be a senior… a senior that has been left back about five times. But age aside, it becomes quickly clear to Noah upon first glance that this kid could probably beat the shit out of him easily should he so desire. _

_ "Fuck you," Noah mutters back uninterestingly, turning back around as to indicate that he's not looking for any kind of a fight right now… Hell, he hasn't even made it through the front doors of his brand new school yet. _

_ "Hey, I'm talking to you over here…" The kid grabs at Noah, latching onto his shoulders where he forces the younger boy to face him, his eyes narrowing in a look that could kill… Noah isn't exactly certain what he has done to get on this kid's bad side, but clearly it must have been something to have made him so relentless… _

_ "Listen man, I'm not in the mood today…" Noah shoots back but he should have known that whether he was in the mood or not meant absolutely nothing… This kid was looking for a fight, probably trying to enhance his reputation as a tough guy in a tough school by cornering some clearly brand new freshman in the immediate._

_Unfortunately, Noah seems to have been the first in his line of vision. _

"_I don't give a fuck what kind of mood you're in…" A crowd has already formulated around the two; a large circle of teenagers, chanting and cheering this kid on to beat the crap out of Noah for their entertainment… The younger boy sighs; he refuses to be pinpointed as a pussy within his first five minutes at this school… he raises his fists instinctively._

_ "What, you're gonna fight me now?" This kid is leering at Noah as if these hadn't been his intentions all along, as if this fight was entirely at Noah's doing… He reciprocates Noah's actions, his fists flying automatically upwards in order to protect his face as the two circle about each other… _

_All Noah needs is one good hit. _

_The older of the two teens strikes first; a right hook that darts out with a pinpoint accuracy towards an open spot against Noah's chin… Of course, Noah Corcoran has not been declared the number one running back of his age group in the state of Ohio because he was slow…_

_ Noah eyes the trajectory of the punch in slow motion and dodges it easily, and as the boy's fist swings straight past him without contact, leaving a wide open shot at his face for Noah to take, the young freshman swings expertly, his strong fist connecting with a perfect alignment, directly under this kid's cheek._

_ He can feel the crack of bone underneath his knuckles. _

_ The boy recoils, but by the time he can recover and come back for more, the security guards are already pulling the two off of each other; Noah is silently grateful, he knows that another couple of seconds and his ass would have been beaten to a bloody pulp but with this outward intervention, Noah has appeared the dominant one… The entire school now knows that Noah Corcoran knows how to fight. _

_ He smirks despite himself as he gets but one good look at the prominently bleeding cut punctured along the underside of the boy's bruised cheek, his already swelling face before he is practically carried away and into the principal's office. _

_He's given janitorial duties for a month; one hour after school every day, the principal, a short and skinny, yet brutally tough ex-warden emphasizing that fighting was simply not tolerated at this school, as if that prevented it from happening ten times a day anyway…_

_ He walks to his first class with a feeling of accomplished pride. _

_ "Hey kid…" Noah pauses amidst the empty hall as he hears the whisper, his eyes scanning only briefly before he finds a boy of similar height and stature to himself lingering within the doorway of the boy's bathroom, nodding towards Noah to follow him inside. _

_ Noah is only briefly hesitant; after his first encounter of the day, he's not certain that he can handle much more… But he's practically begging for a source of human contact from somebody who isn't trying to either kick his ass or give him a month's worth of detention… Noah follows quickly. _

_ "I heard that you kicked the crap out of DeShaun Taylor this morning." The kid tells him the second that the bathroom door is safely closed behind the two boys' conversation, "Noah Corcoran, right?" _

_ "Yeah…" Noah nods in his confirmation, accepting the hand that this kid was currently offering him and shaking it firmly. _

_ "Richie," He introduces himself. "Richie DeSavino… I hear that you're brand new around here and we're looking for kids like you to hang around."_

_ Richie DeSavino proves to be a charmer that second that he begins to speak… Noah knows his type all too well; a smooth talker, a devious mind… He doesn't respond to Richie's introduction; he doesn't know what to say._

_ "I hear that you've got janitorial duties until Halloween… of next year." Noah smirks, nodding briefly, "I think you're gonna need something that can help you relax." _

_ Richie digs into his pockets for a brief second, clutching onto something that Noah can't manage to catch a glimpse of before it is pressed deep within the center of his palm… Richie's hand retreats but Noah doesn't dare to look… not quite yet. _

_ "There's a party tonight," Richie tells Noah quickly, turning back towards the bathroom doors in his retreat. "I'll text you the details."_

_Noah doesn't bother asking the boy how it is that he'll retrieve Noah's phone number as Richie DeSavino disappears through the bathroom doors and back into the hallway. _

_ He doesn't look to identify the contents inside of his hand immediately; instead, he simply stands stock still, staring at the now-closed door before him leading towards the hallway, wondering what the hell just happened…_

_ It's only after several minutes of silence has gone by that he deems it safe, turning over his palm which now contains a small Ziplock bag that doesn't even expand across the length and width of his hand… Inside of it, two small, white pills…_

_Ecstasy._

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><p>"Fuck!"<p>

He hasn't even realized just how much he has been spacing out until he is brought sharply back to reality by a singing sensation spreading across the flesh of his hand as the coffee that he had been absentmindedly pouring seeps over the top of the cup and burns the fingers wrapped around the styrofoam.

His outburst generates a handful of lewd stares, a small collection of people shooting him angry glances that he tries to ignore, but the bare through his body almost painfully…

"Sorry…" Noah grumbles gently, quickly capping his coffee before rushing from the scene as quickly as he possibly could.

"Here, mom…" Noah speaks softly as to not startle his mother who has once again taken to staring directly ahead towards the wall in front of her, handing her the cup of coffee despite her previous insistencies towards the idea that she hadn't wanted a cup…

"Thank you, Noah," She sighs appreciatively, accepting the gift, confirming to Noah that his original beliefs that his mother would currently accept anything handed to her, just to keep her hands busy.

He merely nods before retreating back towards his own seat, grateful to have had at least a couple of minutes of liberation despite the fact that now, he is right back to where he's started, the only difference being that now, he has a beverage that he doesn't even enjoy to roll between his hands and occupy his time.

His silence doesn't last nearly as long as the last one had. In fact, he's certain that he couldn't possibly manage to do that again, certain that he would be driven into insanity should he be forced to remain quiet for another hour…

He can only hope that should he scream loud enough or hard enough, somebody would actually have to answer him eventually… And he needs to start somewhere, so he turns towards his mother, who is silently sipping at her coffee in short, compulsive gulps and takes a deep breath before asking the question that he knows has been lingering on the both of their minds ever since their arrival into the emergency room… maybe even before that.

"Do you think that this is… you know," He pauses with the hopes that Shelby would recognize what he means, but she is carefully avoiding the question, trying desperately to distance herself from it so as to not have to think about the answer, "The cancer coming back again."

The words that slip from his mouth feel foreign and uncomfortable against his tongue so that he nearly gags on the invisible taste, forcing himself to take a sip of his coffee in order to wash down a displeasing sense with a slightly more tolerable one.

The closer the lightning strikes, the harder it is for him to convince himself that this was all just a dream.

"I don't know, Noah…" He doesn't recognize his mother's voice… She is the epitome of strength, she is the definition of stability, of control, but today she seems broken, scared, downright terrified…

It sends a shiver up the length of his spine that he can't help but to react to… He was sick and tired of his family constantly being shafted, stuck with the bad end of the sword, getting screwed over by life, shit on by God… Wasn't karma supposed to have caught up with them by now?

If that was how things worked, Noah was certain that his family should have been a bunch of freaking billionaires by now.

He can tell that his question has struck a chord with his mother, because she uses a deep breath to push herself upwards from her seat, no longer wanting to sit now that the alluded safety of silence had been so uncomfortably lifted by her son…

"I'm going to try and get in touch with your grandparents again… and Ryan…" She speaks softly,, uncomfortably as she pulls her cell phone from her purse, but Noah merely crosses his arms in his silently expressed disinterest towards the latter part of his mother's idea…

Shelby had probably tried calling her flaky boyfriend at least five times since the family's arrival into the ER in an effort to inform him that Rachel was in the emergency room, sick, maybe even dying, who knew… They haven't heard a single word back since.

Shelby has been trying to convince herself that this was all just one giant fluke; maybe her phone was broken, maybe his phone was broken… after all, she had also tried reaching her parents, sister and brother with similar success…

But they both knew that Noah's grandparents were on a flight to Florida, where they were slated to spend the remainder of the cold months, his Aunt Krista was probably in court, just like she always was on Saturday afternoons, and his Uncle Ephraim had his own booming business and three kids to take care of… he was always hard to get a hold of.

Noah never did like Ryan Foley. From day one he hadn't trusted the man; not with his mother, not with him, and certainly not with his little sister…He always did seem like a flake to Noah and now, he has no doubts in his mind that the man was ignoring Shelby's phone calls on purpose… after all, Ryan was practically attached to his Blackberry at every waking moment.

Noah was adamant in his refusal to give the man any leeway whatsoever; he seemed like the type of guy that would ditch the second that the going got tough.

The heavy sigh that Noah can hear his mother expel tells him that her phone call has achieved limited to no success… When she slumps down against her seat with even more flack than she had been seated with before, Noah can immediately tell that Shelby is thinking along the same lines as he is right about now…

"No answer?" Noah decides to play dumb; he doesn't want his mother having to worry about anything other than Rachel right now, especially when that anything is her son's reaction to her absentee boyfriend.

"No," Shelby sounds flustered and upset but really, Noah can't blame her much… He studies her mother carefully; she looks suddenly so much more downtrodden, so much more upset than she had been previously that Noah nearly falls off of his seat, his is so startled, when he watches his mother leap abruptly from her seat, darting at an impressive speed away from him…

His eyes travel so quickly towards the source of his mother's sudden interest that his vision blurs momentarily. They're not even focused but Noah already knows exactly what it is that his mother has seen… there was but one plausible possibility.

Dr. McCarthy is still in the doorway, lingering between the triage center and the back room and Shelby is already at his side; her eyes wide; face desperate for answers.

Noah makes the motion to stand, to join his mother to receive the news that they have so desperately been waiting for, but suddenly, his heart is frozen in fear… He tries to stand, but he struggles with the sudden insurmountable weight of the vital organ inside of his chest, and he simply sinks even further downward, quickly falling into his all time low.

The feeling comes with the realization that the doctors working inside of the emergency room had since called for assistance from Rachel's oncologist… It meant that they suspected cancer; it meant that whatever this man had come out to tell them right now, it was not going to be good.

He forces himself forward, convinced of everything that he had previously believed to be impossible for all of these years as he watches his mother give their old friend a strong embrace… Dr. McCarthy had since grown to become practically a member of their own family.

"Noah," The doctor greets the boy politely with a firm handshake that Noah immediately reciprocates. "It's been a couple of years… you've grown."

He tries to return the polite response with a gesture of gratitude but the only thing that he can truly manage is a short head nod and a smile that comes out looking more like a grimace… Sure, Noah might look a lot bigger now than he had a mere handful of years ago, but he has been feeling as if he stood at a mere two feet tall ever since he had entered into the ER… He was hardly indestructible any longer, not when his biggest weakness is currently being exploited.

"I'm sorry to have left you guys in the dark for so long…" He doesn't appear to have taken offense to Noah's silence; instead, he sounds understanding, empathetic as he guides the boy and his mother towards an empty row of seats; as private as you can possibly get inside of a crowded emergency room. "But the results that you are both looking for aren't in, I'm sorry… The lab hasn't gotten the results of Rachel's blood work yet.

A sigh of genuine disappointment escapes from outside of Shelby's mouth, Noah reciprocating an identical feeling although he can't bring himself to show any of its outward, physical signs.

"I just wanted to come out here to give you guys a little bit of an update as to what was going on with Rachel… I know the two of you must be going crazy out here…" He knows them too well; Dr. McCarthy has after all, seen them at their best, and he has seen them at their worst. He knows how the family reacts to stress, to pressure, to potential tragedy…

"Right now it's looking as if Rachel's collapse was brought on by a severe case of dehydration… She mentioned that she has been exhausting herself with her glee club competition, but on top of that she was also brought into the ER with a fever of over 102° fever…" This doesn't sound terrible, Noah can't help but to think… Well, of course it sounds terrible, but it doesn't sound as terrible as cancer… right? "The chest x-rays that we took showed us that Rachel does indeed have some fluid in her lungs indicative of an infection. We do have to wait for the culture samples to come back from the lab to confirm, but for now we're going to keep her on a broad spectrum antibiotic to help fight the infection as well as some fluids just to help bring her vitals up… Until then, we'll just have to wait and see… hopefully this is simply just a case of a bad infection…"

"So you don't think that it can be the cancer?" Shelby's voice is impossibly high in pitch as she speaks slowly and carefully, not particularly wanting to hear the answer, but knowing that she needs to… just in case.

"You know how these things work, Shelby," He tells her, his voice dripping with the apology towards the idea that he can't give her any more than this. "Leukemia symptoms tend to be vague and specific based on infection… Right now there is nothing to indicate that Rachel has relapsed per se, but we are taking all of the necessary precautions just to be certain."

"Okay… okay…" Shelby repeats herself, nodding through a sniffle… Clearly, she isn't particularly pleased with the answer, and Noah can't blame her, but both Corcoran's were at a place in time where they were willing to take what they could get… At least they were now a step closer to answers than they had been five minutes ago.

"Well, Rachel is asking to see you… I can bring you into the back to see her if you'd like…" He asks them as if the answer isn't already obvious. As expected, Shelby's reaction is immediate; her brows tilted backwards, joyful tears welling inside of her eyes towards the idea that her daughter was so much as capable of asking to see her family at all…

"Yes… please!" She nods her head vigorously but doesn't wait for Dr. McCarthy's lead before she's pushing forwards independently, searching blindly for her daughter.

She finds Rachel seemingly by a supernatural force; her pure maternal instinct guiding her forwards and towards the tiny, curtained off cubicle that instinct tells her that Rachel is behind…

His sister is fast asleep where she lay, although Noah can't help but notice that her sleep appears much more peaceful this time around, more natural than the one he had terrifyingly watched her succumb to the last time that he had seen her unconscious in the back of an ambulance.

"I'll give you guys a couple of minutes with her." Dr. McCarthy announces quietly, his bid towards granting the three Corcoran's the privacy that they so desperately need, and although Noah makes the motion to thank him, no words ever actually escape his lips. "I'll go check on the status of her blood work… see what I can do about rushing the people down in the lab."

"Thank you…" Shelby speaks for both her as well as her son although her voice is soft and barely registered across the heavy fog filtering through the otherwise silent room.

By the time the doctor has ducked out, Noah is already wishing that he would return… The room just seems so much heavier with just the three of them inside of it, tense almost with everything that is lingering between them… He feels almost as if he is intruding as he watches his mother approach his sleeping sister cautiously, gripping her hand tightly within one of her own, lifting her free one to brush through the younger girl's hair in a manner that makes it clear that Shelby is trying to pull Rachel out of a sleep that looks so comfortable.

"Rachel honey, can you wake up for me?" Shelby coaxes the girl gently as her eyes begin to slowly flutter, taking in her surroundings as if she had possibly forgotten where she was and how it was that she had gotten there… "How are you feeling, Rachel?"

"Better…" Rachel answers after a couple of seconds of extended silence, her voice stiff, thick with the fog of illness and exhaustion as she struggles to lift herself onto her elbow, eager to identify her surroundings, and the additional presence in the mysterious room around her.

"Hey, don't try and strain yourself, okay?" Shelby instructs Rachel carefully, pushing gently at her shoulders in an effort to force the girl back down and into a laying position against her bed. "You need to keep up your strength if you want to get better fast…"

There are tears inside of his mother's eyes, Noah can see them, he can hear them projected inside of her voice and his heart constricts… He hates to see his mother like this; he hates it almost as much as he hates seeing Rachel like this… The combination of the two is heartbreaking, almost literally so.

"Oh honey, why didn't you tell me that you were feeling so sick?" Shelby's mouth opens devoid of her intentions, all of the emotions that she has been hoarding for the past several hours now escaping subconsciously through her mouth. "You know that you shouldn't have been pushing yourself so hard…"

"I'm sorry…" Rachel apologizes feebly, but Shelby merely shakes her head with a profound vigor, indicating to the girl that she has no need to apologize, that Shelby simply needed an opportunity to project her feelings, to get them off of her chest before they ate her alive from the inside out.

"Don't be sorry, this isn't your fault honey, you're sick…" Shelby is rambling, eyes wide, hands trembling as she rushes her fingers even more profoundly through Rachel's hair, her nerves projecting into her very muscles. "All that matters is that you're getting the help that you need, and that you're going to start feeling better again real soon, alright?"

"Did Dr. McCarthy tell you what was wrong with me?" Her words linger against her tongue, they can practically hear the word _cancer_ filtering from her lips and into their ears, but Shelby is adamant towards her avoiding of the obvious.

"No," She states quickly and firmly, her head shaking from side to side as if to emphasize the fact. "They're waiting on the results of your blood work now… Hopefully it will be in soon."

Rachel nods quickly as she brings her hands to her eyes, rubbing furiously as if to eliminate the fact that she was here at all to begin with, that this was actually happening to her… again. She lingers in this position, hoping to create the allusion that she was alone in her thoughts for at least a little while, if nothing but to gather them once more.

"Noah…" She makes the silent notion for her brother to come forward, aching for an opportunity to change the subject as she finally notices him lingering in the far corner of the small room. "You're awfully quiet tonight…"

He accepts her vague invitation, inching closer towards both her and their mother, trying desperately to look as casual as possible in the process as he shrugs nonchalantly and stuffs his hands deep inside of the pockets of his dress pants…

"I'm just worried about you, that's all…" He admits to his sister gently.

"Don't be," She tells him with a soft smile but she already knows that her words, her advice is empty. "I'll be okay, you heard mom…"

Noah nods but he can't bring himself to actually respond… Sure, he heard his mother's toned-down version of events as projected by his mother, but he'd also heard the doctor's as well… With Noah's lack of a retort, the family is left lingering in an uncomfortable silence; Noah can feel it building up inside of his skull, fluttering dangerously in a manner that makes him want nothing more than to dart out of the room, solely for the sake of having some noise around him…

He is seconds from insanity when Rachel finally breaks the silence.

"I really blew Regionals today, didn't I?" She speaks with a slight smirk, but her eyes are sad, decorated with tears so that Noah can easily tell that she's disappointed, angry with herself for allowing her body to fail her in such a traitorous manner during such an important time.

"Nah," Noah assures her, reciprocating her soft smile in an effort to try and ease her fears. "Don't worry about it you gave those judges the most exciting show that they've seen in years…"

A gentle laugh escapes from the back of her throat, and Noah doesn't even have to force an identical response before their voices fade in the silence, his eyes grow serious once more and he nods his assurances towards his sister.

"It's not too late for you Rach," He promises her, "You're a star… and you always will be."

* * *

><p><em>He can't see straight. <em>

_It's the only thought that he can consciously piece together as he practically falls out of the backseat of the car that has just pulled up to the front of his house to drop him off…_

_ It was late… or, more accurately, it was impossibly early on the Wednesday morning following his first day at a new high school; a first day that was not actually as terrible as he had initially expected…_

_ "See you tomorrow, Corcoran," The occupants of the car wave him away just as he trips over his own two feet and face plants against the pathway leading up to his house, his body laying flaccid, devoid of all voluntary control against the concrete._

_ "Yeah…" His voice is soft and slurred in his response but it goes unnoticed by the occupants of his car; they have already torn down the street, tires screeching against the pavement as the underage driver who has had much more to drink than what would ever allow him to safely drive home, races down the residential street at highway speeds. _

_ Noah stays where he lay for several more minutes… Even if he wanted to get up, he is certain that that wasn't a possibility… The entire world is spinning all around him, and although somewhere deep within his tainted subconscious, he knows it to be impossible, the sidewalk that he is currently laying stomach-down against is spiraling with every color of the rainbow, mixing and meshing together in a manner that makes him want to vomit. _

_ He pulls himself carefully to his feet, tripping only briefly before h manages to regain his footing just enough to take a handful of carefully orchestrated steps; one foot in front of the other._

_ His biggest challenge quickly proves to be in the stairs leading up to his home… There's only three of them, but to Noah right now, there might as well have been a million… He latches himself onto the railing, resting the entirety of his body weight against the iron pole as he uses his impressive upper body strength to pull his limp legs up to the landing, ripping the screen door open with such a force that it almost detaches from its hinges…_

_ He fumbles briefly with his key ring, juggling the various ornaments in his hands in an attempt to pick out the correct one, but it's all blurring together, he can't identify a single, particular key amidst the five or six on his ring… It doesn't help that he's losing his footing as he struggles to concentrate on controlling both his upper and lower body at the same time. _

_ He picks a key at random and thrusts it forwards and towards the keyhole where he misses his destination time and time again so that he is just starting to believe that he's going to have to settle with sleeping outside on the patio when the door flies open, startling him so that he nearly falls backwards down the stone steps, almost breaking his neck in the process…_

_ Luckily for him, the figure standing at the door manages to catch a handful of his t-shirt, helping him to regain his center of gravity, catching his balance before things got even worse than what they already were._

_ He's convinced that it is his mother, standing there with a fist grasping onto a handful of the fabric currently resting against his chest; there's no way in hell that Rachel possessed the type of strength required to balance out her brother, who easily had a solid foot and a hundred pounds on her… He is so expectant of Shelby to begin screaming, to begin yelling her head off, or to ground him for the rest of his life that he can't help but to be shocked upon hearing her voice._

_ "You can't keep doing this, Noah…" Rachel's voice is soft, but serious as she wraps her brother's arm around the back of her neck and guides him as quietly as possible into the house. They must look foolish, the remarkably smaller girl acting as her older brother's seeing-eye dog, but it's almost 4:00 in the morning… the only people that are still awake right now to witness this are those who are just rolling out of bed in preparation for another draining, pointless day of work… They wouldn't be interested in this. _

_ "Do what?" He grows automatically defensive, playing the fool although it would have been much more believable had his words not been slurring, had he not been stumbling against the miniscule weight of Rachel's tiny frame._

_ "What do you think I am, stupid?" Rachel asks him, and even in his stupor, he notices that her voice is so much more grown, so much more responsible than anything that he has ever heard before. "Do you think that I'm stupid? Do you think that I don't know that you've been out all night drinking and loading yourself up with God knows what… Look at you Noah, you're a mess."_

_ Sometimes even Noah forgets that his little sister is only twelve years old… it was easy to do so, what with her being so impossibly smarter than he ever could dream to be. _

_ "Is mom pissed?" She gets him to the top of the staircase, an impressive feat that leaves Noah impressed, even more so when she manages to guide Noah into his bedroom and throw him down and against his bed. _

_ "Yes," Rachel responds honestly as if there was ever any other possible answer, "She went to bed a few hours ago, but you know that she's probably listening to every word that we're saying… You'll definitely hear all about it tomorrow."_

_ "Whatever," Noah sighs, closing his eyes. "Fuck her, fuck everybody."_

_ "You don't mean that…" Rachel whispers; there are tears in her eyes, she takes Noah's words personally and they sting… they sting hard. "You need to pull yourself together Noah; you're too young to throw yourself away like this."_

_ "I'm passed the point of helping myself, Rach," He speaks nonchalantly in his haze of drugs and alcohol, attempting, and failing to crawl beneath the sheets of his unmade bed until finally, he simply gives up and succumbs to the settlement of resting on top of the mattress._

_ "I can help you." She speaks in a whisper, so soft that even Noah is surprised that he's managed to catch it in the fog that has since become his once most acute senses. _

_ "Don't," He tells Rachel so sharply that she jumps. Noah sits up inside of his bed, eyeing his sister carefully, more serious than he has ever been in his entire life despite his current state of mind. "If you're smart, you'll stay far away, Rachel… And you are smart… you'll know what to do."_

_He wakes up the next morning convinced that he is dying. His throat is raw and dry, and he's desperate for water, feeling as if he'd just spent weeks on end lost inside of a dessert… His head is pounding, his stomach rumbling nervously…_

_ The only thing that successfully pulls him out of his bed is the idea that should he stay here, there was no doubt that he would only end up vomiting all over himself, as well as his sheets… and something was telling him that his mother wouldn't be too willing to clean up that mess for him…_

_ He stands shakily to his feet; his limbs are trembling with dehydration, his head swarming with a residual intoxication that he is certain will never go away… Briefly amidst his travels, his eyes manage to catch the luminous numbers reflecting painfully off of his clock face… It was 6:30 in the morning… two and a half hours of sleep… great. _

_ Groaning inwardly, he shuffles quickly to his feet and into the hall, walking in a near sprint towards the bathroom…_

_ "I don't know what I'm going to do with him…" The sound of his mother's voice stops him in his tracks… Through her closed bedroom door, Noah can hear her feet performing a rapid pace, back and forth across her bedroom floor; it was a characteristic nervous habit, and although he doesn't know who exactly his mother was talking to at 6:30 in the morning, he does know that whoever it was, she was venting about him. "I can't do this anymore, I don't want to give up on him, but this whole thing is starting to seem more and more like a lost cause every day."_

_ Noah's cheeks flush red with shame; he's never felt so embarrassed in his entire life… There's a bubbling deep inside of his stomach that he knows has absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol that he's consumed and before he knows it, he finds himself rendered to his knees in the middle of the hallway, never making it to the bathroom before he's emptying the liquid contents of his stomach across the carpeted floors before him. _

_ He thinks back to the one conscious memory that he has of the previous night; Rachel hovering above him, offering him the help that he'd denied… He wants her assistance, he wants her support, but he can't take that last glint of innocence that his sister has away from her, he can't be that selfish, he can't ruin her like he has already ruined himself. _

_He knows more than anyone that as far as roles go, Rachel has always been the hero and him, the lost cause. _

* * *

><p>"Mrs. Corcoran?" The voice is addressing Shelby in particular but all three heads turn towards the curtained opening of Rachel's room where a tiny nurse is standing, her body carefully lingering halfway between the hall and Rachel's room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Dr. McCarthy wants to do a quick bone marrow aspiration on Rachel… Just to be careful. You're welcome to come up with her but I'm sorry, there's only space for one."<p>

She eyes Noah apologetically, making a euphemism towards the idea that Noah wasn't welcomed to be there with his sister during what was bound to be the most terrifying moments of her recent life.

"But… but I want him to be there…" Rachel begs, looking up towards her mother with wide, fearful eyes, pleading with her to enact the power that Noah knows she doesn't have just as much as Rachel does, in allowing the nurse to change her mind, to keep them all together.

"It's okay Rach," Noah nods towards her, reaching over her to latch onto her free hand, gripping at tightly as he possibly could without disturbing the IV sticking out of her taut skin. "I'll go pick you up something… anything you want… What's on your mind?"

"I am starving…" She smirks up towards her brother, appreciative of his successful efforts to help calm her down.

"McDonalds?" He suggests, knowing that he's struck the nail on its head when she beams up towards him.

"Lot's of it." She smiles through a nod that he reciprocates in the confirmation that he's received her vague order.

"Okay," He stands upwards and to his feet, leaning forwards so that he can gather her into as much of a hug as he can possibly manage with her lying down and him hovering awkwardly above her. "I'll be back before you're done, I promise."

"Thank you, Noah…" Rachel latches her arms around his neck, whispering her gratitude into his ear in a manner that would ensure that only he would hear it; he nods gently against her.

"That's what I'm here for." He reciprocates her soft words, tearing himself hesitantly away from her, not particularly fond of the idea of letting his mother and sister go without him, but at the same time, knowing that he was leaving them in safe hands.

"Thank you…" His mother emphasizes what Rachel had already told him, moving inwards to gather her son into a hug of her own, allowing Noah to wrap her much smaller frame into his, so that he can pull her close and squeeze extra tightly in an effort to enact a sense of comfort through his very arms, but she still looked frantic, terrified, a hundred years older than what she truly was…

He feels terrible.

"I'll just wait outside for you guys." He nods his head towards the general direction of the waiting room that they had just came from and Shelby nods in her agreement with the idea.

"I'll call you when she's done." She promises.

"Alright," Noah nods, slithering out from within his mother's arms, pulling himself completely upright and offering one final wave before he ducks out from behind the curtained off sanction of the room, hands in his pockets and sauntering back reverse of the direction he had just travelled, back towards the godforsaken triage center that was currently the bane of his very existence.

He moves in slow, concerted motions; Noah is in no rush to get back there… Suddenly, he is more than looking forward his the walk he had promised Rachel he would take to pick her up something do eat, easily a half mile in either direction… Considering the fact that their car was still sitting in the parking lot of William McKinley High School, them having conveniently taken an ambulance to Lima Memorial, his walking was inevitable… But he didn't mind, in fact he was rather grateful for it.

When he thrusts himself from behind the doorway and back into the bustling triage unit, the first thing that he notices is that there seems to be an additional crowd, one that he can't pinpoint immediately, his eyes still adjusting to the abrupt change in light, impossibly brighter out here than inside the actual ER.

The first person that he spots is Finn Hudson, his best friend that has already registered his presence and is halfway walking towards him before anybody else has even noticed his mere presence.

He looks past Finn's broad shoulders only briefly… He quickly spots Santana, Brittney and Quinn… A little bit further into the corner, Artie, Matt, and Mike… Tina, Kurt and Mercedes are lingering quietly in the background, hell, even Mr. Schuester has made an appearance…

His entire glee club was there for him, and for his sister, looking as if they hadn't even stopped home before hand as they were all still adorned in their Regionals uniforms, looking nervously towards Puck for answers, disappointed when all he could do for a moment was sigh in his exponential feeling of relief…

He has never appreciated, nor has he ever been more grateful for the friends that he had than in this moment.

* * *

><p><strong>Peggyjane<strong>** – Haha, that's okay because I'm running out of adjectives to tell you how much I absolutely love your reviews! Rachel's stubbornness is definitely going to come in handy down the line, I'm glad you like their little family, I absolutely hated the way they did it on the show, it had so much potential and they completely blew it so I tried to put my own little spin on things.**

**Jamison08**** – Wow, thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying, thanks for the review!**

**Sillystarshine**** – Yay, I'm glad I still gave you a bit of a surprise in there. As always, you are amazing and thank you for your awesome reviews!**

**CloudGazer15**** – Ahh, I know, you've been heading down the right track this whole time. Hopefully from now on I'll be able to surprise you :)**

**Ballerina03**** – Hahaha, I know I'm sorry! I'm glad you had a chance to read it before you left though. Thank you as always for your wonderful reviews, hopefully I'll have a handful of chapters waiting for you by the time you read this!**

**Crazy-wee-cat**** – As per usual, thank you for your awesomeness, but I do apologize for continuously packing on the angst.**

**WittyNinja**** – I know, I am much too much of a sucker for angst for Rachel, or any of their own good, but thank you for all of your kind words, I'm glad you're enjoying so far! **


	19. Noah Corcoran February 2001

**Oops, sorry for the wait guys, it's that time of year again, I'm getting swamped. First of all, St. Patrick's day ate my face off this weekend and now that there's a month left of school it's getting harder to hold off writing my senior thesis plus playoffs are coming up for rugby so things might be kind of slow for the next month or so. But the good news is after that, I have an entire summer at my will so I apologize but thank you for baring with me!**

**I had a little bit more planned for this chapter and am not too pleased with it but I wanted to put something up before I made all you guys crazy but I hope it's not too terrible and I promise answers will be coming next and everything's going to start coming together soon.. **

**Any who, there's two chapters left in this part, then things will start piecing together. Thank you all for your kindness, I'm overwhelmed by the crazy awesome response I've gotten from you all!**

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – February 2001

* * *

><p>He isn't feeling particularly well when he wakes up dangling dangerously off the edge of an elaborate hospital room that he immediately notices is not familiar to the ones that he is normally used to from every other time that his sister has been sick in the hospital.<p>

He isn't feeling particularly well at all and the six year old has the slightest feeling that this has absolutely nothing to do with him actually being ill and everything to do with the unsettling sinking in his stomach, left over from the night previous.

Noah knows that it's still early… He's just learning in school how to read a clock, and the details remain fuzzy so that he suddenly finds himself unable to remember what it means when the little hand is pointed at the very top and the big hand straight out and to the right, but it _is _still dark outside and his mom _is_ fast asleep in a chair…

Lifting himself into a seated position, Noah crosses his legs Indian style and yawns through a steep stretch, pausing only upon the realization that his father is nowhere to be seen… Noah's muscles relax with relief; he is suddenly starting to remember why it was that he had fallen asleep so upset last night to begin with.

Noah raises his hand subconsciously to the small welt still lingering against his cheek, flinching the second that the flesh of his fingertips make contact with it, stinging it impossibly.

He grows panicked automatically, his eyes scanning about the room for fear that his father would be watching his every move, would be judging him for poor behavior, would feel the urge to strike him once more… Noah automatically straightens his back into a perfect posture; he presses his chin down into the tiny palms of his hands and falls silent, staring straight ahead at the wall… He's determined to be good; he's determined to prove to his father that he's not bad, that he can behave, that he can be supportive while Rachel is so sick…

But still, he is just a six year old boy… He gets bored of this after barely five minutes.

He slinks carefully downwards from his makeshift bed, crawling quietly towards his mother's bag, where he knows all of his toys to be inside of, resting against the night stand.

Noah avoids carefully, allowing his eyes to slide to his right, afraid of having to look at Rachel, afraid of that shell of a body that certainly was not his sister as he tugs at the straps of Shelby's bag, attempting to pull it off of the desk top, achieving nothing more than knocking the entirety of the bag to the ground, where it lands with a crash, its contents spilling out and across the floor.

He cringes, shrinking automatically from the mess, his eyes carefully glancing towards his mother to ensure that she didn't wake up amidst the calamity… He doesn't even bother checking to see whether he's disturbed Rachel or not.

Shelby shifts slightly where she sit; moving from an uncomfortable position against her chair, to an even more uncomfortable one, responding to the disturbance with a heavy inhale indicative that her subconscious has registered the noise, but still, she never wakes up…

Noah looks downwards towards the mess that he has created… Loose change, papers, the multiple prescription bottles containing Rachel's various medications scattered about the floor, tangled within all of the toys that he has been looking for to begin with…

How was he supposed to prove to his father that he can be good when he couldn't stop doing things like this?

He was starting to think that maybe he truly was a bad kid after all… just like Hiram had told him.

"Noah, what are you doing?"The young boy's body seizes with fear as the familiar voice of his father filters towards him from the direction of the doorway… Hiram is lingering carefully between Rachel's room and the hallway, eyeing his son, evaluating the mess against the floor, and arching his eyebrows with curiosity as he puts two and two together.

Noah's shoulders hunch forward with defeat, head hung in shame… He stiffens automatically as his father slowly approaches, suddenly very much so aware of the fact that his miniscule height leaves him standing only to his father's hips… He has never realized how much smaller he was in comparison to his father, and suddenly, he was terrified.

"Hey, it's okay buddy…" Hiram tells Noah, ducking into a squat in an effort to help the young boy pick his mess up and off of the floor. "Was this what you were looking for?"

Hiram extends to the boy, a small toy car… In fact, it was the exact one that he has been looking for, but suddenly, he finds himself hesitant about actually grabbing it… The pause does not go unnoticed by his father.

"Go ahead," Hiram nudges him and after several more brief seconds, Noah extends his arm, his much smaller fingers grasping the toy currently held between Hiram's larger ones… Their skin makes contact for but a brief second before Noah retracts his arm, the toy resting motionless inside of his palm… Suddenly, he isn't quite in the mood to play anymore.

"Noah, do you think that maybe you and me can talk for a little bit?" Noah considers the offer momentarily before extending towards Hiram, a gentle nod that projects him upwards and to his feet. He makes the motion to walk back towards the small row of chairs awaiting them, shrinking back in his fear only as Hiram's arms dart outwards towards him… Noah retracts with an apologetic understanding the second that he realizes that Hiram had simply been aiming to pick him up, to lift him into his arms, to carry him just like he always did…

Noah completes his journey on his own accord, crawling back towards the cot that he has just woken up from, the lumpy mattress sinking dramatically as his father's weight compresses beside him… He stares downwards at his hands only momentarily before he finally raises his chin, his eyes dancing fearfully across those of his father's, waiting for the older man to speak.

"Noah, I just wanted to apologize to you for everything that happened last night…" Hiram eyes his son seriously, but Noah's gaze falters. "It was very, very wrong what I did, but I want you to know that it was not your fault… Nothing that you did or said was bad or wrong, okay?"

Noah nods feebly… Truth be told, he doesn't understand what his father was trying to tell him, he was so convinced that Hiram was mad at him, so convinced that he had done something so unforgivably wrong… Why else would his father had hit him last night unless he had done something wrong?

But still, somehow or another, Noah still trusts his father, he feels confident about Hiram's apology… He visibly relaxes almost immediately.

"But daddy, if you weren't angry at me for doing something bad than who were you angry at?" He speaks softly after an extended silence that Hiram allows him to wallow in.

"I wasn't angry at anything, Noah." Hiram sighs, and although Noah disagrees with this statement, seeing the manner in which he'd seen his father react last night, he doesn't say anything. "I was just very upset about everything that happened with your sister… You do understand that Rachel is very, very sick right now, right Noah?"

"Momma told me last night that Rachel is sick because of her cancer." Noah nods confidently, trying to impress his father with sheer understanding.

"You're right Noah, she is…" Hiram nods before he pauses briefly, his face screwing up in concentration as he attempts to find a means to further explain to the six year old that his sister was dying. "Do you remember last year, when you had the flu and had to miss school and take all of those yucky medicines?"

"Yeah…" Noah nods; he remembers this prominently, mostly because the entire experience was so terrible.

"Well, because Rachel has cancer, Noah, when she gets sick like you did last year, her body can't help to make her feel better again like yours did…" Hiram offers the explanation carefully and Noah considers his words, his face concentrated, his head subconsciously bobbing in understanding as he slowly follows along. "The doctors are trying to give her as much medicine as they can, just like the ones that you took to try and make her feel better again, but Noah… Last night I was upset because… because…" He pauses, and Noah tries to ignore the fact that he has tears in his eyes but it quickly proves to be a difficult task; his body stiffens once more almost immediately… He has never seen his father cry before, and suddenly, it seems as if everything that the boy had ever knew, everything that he had ever believed has been shattered. "I was upset because the medicine might not work this time, buddy."

"Is Rachel going to die, daddy?" The question slips from beyond Noah's mouth but he immediately slaps his hands tightly over his lips as soon as they escape… but a second too late. He is six years old but still, he has since learned of the strange taboo regarding the topic of death as it pertained to his sister… He doesn't understand exactly, what it means when somebody dies, but he knows that it's bad, and he knows that in particular, it makes his parents very upset to think about.

The last thing that Noah Corcoran ever wants to do is to make his family upset.

"I'm not sure, Noah," Hiram answers honestly through an extended sigh, resting his hand gently upon his young son's upper back, "I really hope not though."

"Me too…" Noah nods gently, his eyes scanning the room briefly before they lock upon his sister, who he can tell, still hasn't woken up from the time he'd seen her last night… and Rachel almost always woke up even before the son did.

Rachel was a morning person, his mom had always said so; she liked to wake up early, just like her father… Noah on the other hand, had inherited his desire to sleep in from his mother… He liked that, he like that he had gotten at least something from his mother, because as proud as he was every time somebody told him how much like his father Noah looked, he loved his mom too and always wanted something from her…

"What will happen to Rachel?" Noah asks, his mouth spewing with the questions that he has been hoarding since the day of Rachel's diagnosis now that his father was finally giving him the opportunity to ask, two months later. "I mean if she does… Will we still be able to see her?"

"No, Noah." Hiram shakes his head apologetically.

"Why not?" He asks despite himself… He can see that his father is growing upset once more, and this time, his tears are actually falling gently down the length of his cheeks… Noah feels badly about making his father cry, but he's a beacon of curiosity, he's at that age where asking questions was his primary means by which to learn… He wants to know, no, he needs to know why it is that the possibility of his little sister dying upsets his parents so much.

"Noah, when somebody dies…" Hiram's words are laced with sadness; he sounds confused, unsure of how to proceed with this conversation. "When somebody dies, their bodies stop working, and when that happens, we won't get to see them anymore."

"Where do they go?" Noah has a vague image of Rachel simply disappearing into thin air, much like how the characters in his comic books often do as a superpower… But somehow, Noah can't help but to think that these scenarios aren't quite the same.

"Some people like to think that when you die, you go to heaven." Hiram leaves the possibility open for speculation from the young mind; the older man has always been a religious skeptic… Raised Catholic, Hiram hasn't stepped foot inside of a church since his devout parents had stopped forcing him to go in high school… The man was more than certain that should he ever choose to return, he would burn almost instantly.

When Hiram had married Shelby, the man had adhered to her request of raising their children Jewish without question… He didn't care either way, but had emphasized to his children from the very beginning the importance of questioning divine power… Of course, with his child dying before him, he finds it more and more difficult to do so, desperate to believe that should indeed, Rachel go, she will go somewhere much better than a world that had allowed her to fall so desperately ill in the first place.

"Well why can't we go visit her in heaven?" Now Noah is really confused… He doesn't understand why, if he can hop on a plane to go and visit his Uncle Ephraim in Boston, or drive the car to Akron to see his Aunt Krista, why he can't do so to go see Rachel once she leaves.

"Noah…" Hiram sighs heavily; he doesn't know how to field this conversation, at the same time, doesn't feel as though he is making a complete mess of his complete free ball of what might possibly be the most difficult conversation that he will ever have to have with his son. "Noah, heaven is a place that people can only go to after they die… Their bodies don't go to heaven but… but what's on the inside of them does."

Noah wrinkles up his face, sticking out his tongue in disgust; he's taken Hiram's words literally, envisions dead people flipped around from the inside out walking through the sky… It sounds like a scene from one of those horror movies that his mother refuses to allow him to watch but his dad lets him sneak every once in a while despite the fact that they give him nightmares for weeks…

"I don't have all of the answers, buddy…" Hiram's revelation shocks Noah; he has always believed his parents to be an endless storage of information, knowledgeable of every fact contained inside the entirety of the world… The reminder that his parents too are only human hurts almost as much as the thought of losing Rachel does. "I'm sorry."

"But… but I'll miss her…" Noah begins blubbering, his bottom lip trembling as he begs himself to fight the tears, but succumbs to the action despite himself.

"I know you will," His father lifts the small boy from beneath his arms easily, bringing him close into his chest where Noah wraps his arms around the back of the man's neck and buries his face steeply into his shoulder… He doesn't know why it is he's suddenly embarrassed to be crying in his father's arms… It is an action that he has committed to for the entirety of his short years, but all at once, he feels too old, like he's possessing to many responsibilities to be doing so. "We all will."

"Should I say goodbye to her?" Noah wonders aloud… His mother is always making him say goodbye to people before he leaves them, or they leave him… But he doesn't know what the proper protocol of leading somebody to death is; he feels obligated to be granted permission.

"You can…" Hiram nods softly, "If that is what you want to do."

"I do," He wipes the tears gently from his eyes with the backs of his tiny hands, determined to wipe away any lingering evidence…. He doesn't want what may be the last memory that his sister has of him to be him crying; he wants her to remember him as being strong, of being brave… for all of them.

He straightens himself up as his father lowers him to the floor, walking on the balls of his feet as he crawls over towards Rachel's side.

"Be careful, Noah…" Hiram instructs the boy as he climbs expertly onto Rachel's bed, carefully maneuvering himself over the raised bedrails and onto the awaiting mattress…

Noah nods, but doesn't cease his motions as he weaves through the multitude of tubes and wires currently snaking into and out of his sister's small body, covering her in a manner that Noah knows is supposed to make Rachel feel better, as his mother has explained to him the night before, although he doesn't see how…

He chooses not to respond to Hiram void of the brief gesture… His father should know that of course he was going to be careful… he was _always_ careful when it came to taking care of Rachel… She was the only thing that could ever procure the gentlest side of the otherwise rowdy six year old.

Noah sits at the foot of Rachel's bed; his feet projected straight outwards in front of him towards his sister although the two children are so small, that their combined heights don't provide any sort of overlap… He is evaluating the scene before him, mapping out an effective approach that would allow him to adhere to his father's warning…

He finally finds a clearing amidst the forest of machinery and wiring and crawls forward, making his way slowly towards Rachel where he hovers above his motionless sister, seemingly waiting for her to make the first move although he secretly knows that this is impossible…

"Rachel?" He whispers quietly, nudging the girl's shoulder gently with his hand, allowing it to flop gently, devoid of all voluntary muscle control before realigning, resting just as still against the mattress as it had been before Noah's interference. "Rae?" His voice elevates gently as the anger towards her lack of a response surges inside of him.

"Rachel, wake up!" He's screaming, his hands up and against Rachel's shoulders, shaking her although she never responds… he never expected her too. "Rachel you gotta wake up!"

He can't remember another time in which he's felt such an explicit rage before; he can't remember an urge to induce bodily harm upon a person just to force them to make things right for his family again, not even that time that he hit David for saying mean things about Rachel in school that one time.

For the first time since his parents had begun taking him to the hospital to visit Rachel, Noah truly understands why it is they get so upset, so afraid of Rachel dying; and it scares him almost as much as it does them.

"Noah, no!" He feels an urgent pair of hands wrap around him, pulling his small body easily away from his sister, "You're going to hurt her, son, come on…"

"No!" Noah thrashes inside of his father's arms, trying to slither from his grasp, nearly achieving freedom in his motions, Hiram narrowly avoiding dropping the poor boy on his head against the ground below. "No daddy, I want to stay with her… Rachel! Rachel, stay here, please!"

"Noah… Hiram, what's going on?" His mother is stirring as a result of the calamity created by her young son, and jumps to her feet in her concern the second that she recognizes that he is wailing, screaming in his fury, practically assaulting Hiram, still struggling to hold him firmly inside of his arms.

"Momma, I don't want Rachel to go!" Noah's face is scrunched in his sorrow; tears are seeping from his eyes as he extends his arms towards Shelby in a silent indication for her to hold him, grateful when she immediately adheres to his request, pressing him tightly against her chest where she rocks him gently and allows him to bury his face deep within the crook between her neck and her shoulder and he wails.

"I know baby, I know…" There's not a trace of sleep left inside of Shelby's voice as she dances Noah back and forth in a soft, swaying motion, rocking him gently as she rubs soft circles into his heaving back, providing a comfort like only a mother can. "I don't want her to go either."

"It's not fair…" Noah relays his anger towards the world; he wonders why this is happening to his family, he wonders why Rachel simply just can't live, can't get better again, he wonders why he isn't strong enough to keep all of the bad in the world away from his family…

And finally, he wonders just how small he will look to Rachel once she secures her position in the highest of the depths of the sky.

* * *

><p>Following his impromptu outburst, radiating outward from the center of his little sister's ICU hospital room, Noah's parents had decided to send him away from Lima Memorial, in an effort to simply keep his mind off of things… He has never been more grateful for an opportunity to do school work in his entire life.<p>

"Boys, have you gotten all of your homework done?" His willingness for homework is short lived as Noah huffs from his position seated at the Hudson's dining room table, arms crossed against his chest… He had been exuberant to find that he would be spending the evening sleeping over at Finn's house, but at what kind of a sleepover did you have to do homework at? Even one that was on a school night…

"I didn't even go to school today…" The younger boy argues, "Why would I have to do homework?"

"Because your mother had Finn take it home for you," Carole explains patiently as she digs through Finn's backpack, extracting the necessary supplies… Having more than enough experience trying to subdue a stubborn six year old into sitting and concentrating on school work for more than an hour or two, she knew how to handle Noah, "I'm sure that Finn will be more than willing to help you with the things that you missed from class today, won't you Finn?"

His best friend nods enthusiastically, Finn always being eager to help a friend in need although Noah can't help but to be disappointed by this trait today seeing as how it meant nothing more than extra work for him… Noah knows that his mother had told him from the very beginning that she didn't want him missing too much school on account of Rachel, but what she clearly didn't know was that Noah was willing to miss school for pretty much anything… especially his sister.

He wonders suddenly whether or not he should have waiting to say goodbye to his sister, held it off for just a few moments longer… Even if his father had told him that it was okay for him to have done so… He wonders if his mother and father had sent him to stay with the Hudson's because they'd believed that he didn't want to see Rachel again, he wonders if it was because he had gotten angry earlier that morning while he was saying goodbye to her…

He wonders if they are afraid of letting him near her, maybe they are afraid that he would hurt her.

The young child's breathing speeds up exponentially, hitching wheezes catching in the back of his throat as he spirals into a panic…

Of course he would never hurt Rachel, he would do absolutely anything else in the world before he even dreamed of hurting Rachel… Didn't his parents see this? Didn't they understand?

Noah's hands grip at the edges of the Hudson's dining room table until his knuckles begin to hurt from being bent around the wooden panel with so much force.

Of course his parents wouldn't keep him from seeing his sister, he tries to reason, his head spinning with the two extremes of his argument, fighting each other with such force that he's practically growing dizzy with the back and forth of it all…

But _his_ dad had gotten angry last night and _he'd_ had the chance to apologize to Noah… Maybe that was all he had to do, maybe he just had to apologize to Rachel for getting angry and then everything would be okay…

The problem now is that Shelby had sent him to stay at Finn's house tonight and for who knows how much longer… What if he never got the opportunity to see Rachel again before she left? He had said goodbye to his sister once already, but suddenly it didn't seem like enough.

"Noah, are you okay?" It is only after he's snapped from the trap of his racing thoughts that he realizes how completely crazy the entire idea of his parents abandoning him, of not allowing him to see Rachel truly was.

"Yeah…" The young boy's voice is soft and high pitched as he lies easily to Carole Hudson, accepting her gift to him as she extends towards him, the folder containing all of his homework.

"Okay," Carole chooses not to push the boy; she's well aware of his situation, aware that he is doing well, if not better than anybody could possibly expect of a child in his situation. "Well I'm going to make you boys something to eat, okay? Let me know if you need any help, I'll be right in the kitchen."

"Okay mom…" Finn waves off his mother obliviously, pulling the contents of his homework folder out carefully as he organizes the paper neatly in front of him while meanwhile Noah simply stares at his own papers, unable to focus long enough to distinguish what it was that all of these words and pictures were actually telling him to do.

"We're learned about George Washington today." To Noah, Finn's voice sounds like nothing but wind as he explains the scope of their first grade assignment. "We got to go to an assembly and they said that George Washington was the first president ever and he was a hero in America… He even gets his own holiday and because President's Day is next week we don't even have to go to school. Now we have to write about who we think our own heroes are for homework."

Noah's thoughts race to his sister immediately; he thinks about his profession earlier in this ordeal, how he was supposed to be her hero but failed so miserably… Now he could only hope that she wouldn't have to pay for his lack of commitment towards his promise with her life, how if she doesn't leave to go to heaven before _she_ has the opportunity to write about who _her_ hero was in the first grade, he would hope that she would right about him…

He doubts it though.

"Puck?" Finn is calling to him, Noah under the impression that his best friend must have noticed him spacing off, "Puck are you even listening to me?"

"Who are you gonna write about?" Noah all but ignores Finn's question, instead indicating that he had indeed been paying attention by asking a question regarding the assignment.

"I'm gonna write about my dad." Finn professes, his chest jutting outwards proudly, chin raised with honor towards the mere idea of his father. "He was a Marine which means that he fought for our country just like George Washington did, and because he died doing it, that means that my dad is an extra, super special hero."

Noah watches as Finn's face softens suddenly, his eyes darting back and forth towards Noah with a hint of concern towards the understanding of just how painful it might be for the young boy to think about dying right now.

"Are you gonna write about Rachel?"

"Maybe…" Noah is considering this option but suddenly, he's having second thoughts on the idea. "I'm not sure if I should though… My mom told me yesterday that Rachel might die soon and that means that I wasn't a good enough hero for Rachel… I don't think that I should write about Rachel being my hero if I can't be hers."

"You know, if your sister dies that doesn't mean that either of you were bad heroes…" Finn interjects with a shrug as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "It just means that now Rachel will get to go to heaven and then because the both of them are with each other I bet that that would make them superheroes."

"I guess…" Noah shrugs, but still, he seems dejected, uninterested in a manner that Finn can tell means that he wants to change the subject. "I'm sorry, Finn…"Noah apologizes suddenly, taking to twirling his pencil between his fingers simply to have something to do with his hands. "I know that it makes you sad to think about your dad dying… I didn't mean to bring it up."

"It's okay," Finn nods through his mutual understanding between friends regarding a concept that was much too big for either of them. "My momma told me that everybody has to die sometime and that when they do it's okay because they just go up to heaven to watch all of the people that they love and make sure that they're okay… My mom says that it was just my dad's turn to go up to heaven to watch us."

"Do you get to watch the people who are in heaven too?" Noah finds himself growing confused all over again… Perhaps there were some vital details that his father had forgotten to mention this morning when he had tried explaining the concept of heaven to Noah.

"No, I never get to see my dad." Finn sighs, hanging his head low to his chest as he falls silent momentarily… Noah allows the boy to linger in his quiet. He feels badly for making Finn upset, he knows that should he it upsets him, the constant reminder of the idea that Rachel was dying, so he can't imagine what it must be like to be reminded over and over that your father was already dead. "But maybe if we all go to heaven one day, I'll get to see him again then."

"I still don't want Rachel to go though." Noah admits, comforted somewhat by Finn's theory although not exponentially so…

"Well I don't think that Rachel is gonna die." Finn projects his theory casually, not a hint of uncertainty behind his voice as he speaks his tones of comfort towards his friend.

"You don't'?" Noah asks curiously, straightening up in his seat as if to urge Finn on in his explanation, looking for any hint of evidence towards the idea so opposite of what everybody else seemed to be so certain of.

"No, it's usually just grownups that die so I think that Rachel will be okay because she's just a kid." It seems logical… Noah allows Finn's words to seep through his veins, warming his blood as he works slowly through his friend's theory nodding his head in agreement as he put it all together… He was right; the only person that Noah ever knew that died was his grandpa and Finn's dad, and they were both grownups, just like Finn said.

"Yeah… yeah, you're right." He agrees with Finn easily; it was a concept that he wonders, whether or not his parents simply just didn't know about yet, after all, they were both grownups, they probably just couldn't remember a time where they were as invincible as he is, as Rachel is… "Rachel isn't gonna die," He repeats, "She's gonna be my hero and then I'll get a chance to try again to be hers."

With a newfound hope budding through his chest, the images spewing against Noah's homework assignment are suddenly growing clearer, fuller… He can see the large cartoon of a man standing inside of a boat, surrounding by lots of people rowing with the caption _George Washington_ written above it, and directly underneath the large, dotted lines indicating the space reserved for Noah to write his essay; large, bold black letters across the top summarizing the assignment to Noah in one simple sentence; _'My Hero Is…'_ followed by a blank space waiting for him to personalize his response

Noah suddenly can't understand why he was so uncertain about who it was that he was going to ever write about; the answer seems as if it had been obvious all along now that it was there right in front of his face.

He touches the pencil softly to the blank space aligning the top of the page, writing in his stereotypical, nearly illegible large print letters, the name he proudly spells with ease –

_My Hero Is Rachel Corcoran._

* * *

><p>He's fast asleep on a sleeping bag on Finn's floor when the lingering sound of the ringing doorbell pulls him awake…<p>

His eyes flutter open lazily, his hands automatically rising to rub at the orbs, drenched with exhaustion as he slowly adjusts to the darkness that is currently surrounding him.

He doesn't remember falling asleep… He doesn't even remember how it was that he'd gone from sitting on the couch in the Hudson's living room watching television to sleeping on his best friend's bedroom floor.

He must have been more exhausted than he'd originally believed.

"Shelby is everything okay?" Noah flies upwards into a seated position against the ground the second that he registers the idea of his mother's presence on the ground floor below…

Exhaustion flies from the young boy's mind, his senses registering with nothing but a stiff poise as he attempts to adjust his ears in a manner that would allow him to hear the conversation currently brewing between his mother and Carole Hudson… Whatever is going on, Noah knows that it cannot be good… his mother wasn't supposed to pick him up until tomorrow evening.

"Actually, I was wondering if Noah was still awake." Noah immediately registers the idea that his mom's voice sounds as it does after she's been crying for a long period of time and Noah's heart grows stiff with fear once more, the settling feeling he'd experienced following Finn's convincing of him that Rachel would be just fine vanishing in a heartbeat. "I wanted to take him over to the hospital to visit Rachel… She, uh… she isn't doing very well."

"Oh my God, Shelby I'm so sorry…" Noah can hear the sincere emphasis of sympathy behind Carole's voice… It's not the kind that he often hears people using when they speak of Rachel; the quick apology they offer before insisting that they have to run off for an appointment that they're already late for, no longer wanting to be held down by the blatant awkwardness a conversation regarding Rachel's health ensues… "What happened?"

"Hiram and I were sitting with her about an hour and a half ago…" Shelby is in tears once more, Noah can practically hear them sliding down her cheeks from a story away, and in the back of his extra attentive mind, he pictures her tears; large and fat as they roll in a relentless pattern down the length of her face…

The image of his mother crying used to bother him, it used to bother him a lot actually, but it has been so long, and her tears were such a frequent occurrence that they didn't even faze him any longer…

"She went into cardiac arrest…" Noah doesn't know what this means; he wracks his brain, searching by a means in which he's heard the term before, but while medical vocabulary like _chemotherapy_ and _hematopoiesis _and _leukocytes_ have since become commonplace for him, he can't for the life of him remember a time in which he's heard the term _cardiac arrest_ before… "She was gone for almost fifteen minutes… The doctor says… he says that there's likely to be damage… if she wakes up."

"Oh my God, Shelby I'm so sorry…" Carole's distinct apology is swallowed into an immediate silence… Noah can tell that his mother is still crying, but this time, the sound is prominently muffled… Noah is secretly glad; it makes it easier for him to pretend that he can't hear anything that Shelby has said at all, because although he doesn't know for sure what the term cardiac arrest means, he can tell for sure that whatever it is, it isn't good.

"Noah went upstairs to bed almost an hour ago," Carole explains gently after their silence has finally extended into nothing more than a handful of quieted, stray sobs as emitted by his mother, broken only by a single, distinct grunt as emitted by the still slumbering Finn… "I can go get him if you'd like."

His mother doesn't respond audibly, but Noah can only assume that she's made a positive gesture towards Carole in response to her request, because it's not seconds later that he hears her footsteps pounding up the length of the staircase.

Noah scrambles into action before Carole has so much as reached the crest of the stairwell, rushing to collect his belongings as quickly as humanly possible in an effort to minimize the amount of time he has to wait before rushing into his mother's arms…

"Noah?" He hears Carole's familiar voice, calling to him with a soft, sympathetic tone, speaking gently as to not awaken her own son as Noah struggles to untangle himself from within his sleeping bag, "Noah honey, your mom is here to pick you up."

She doesn't mention his mother's intentions, she doesn't so much as breathe Rachel's name although Noah can practically hear it lingering against her tongue… He tries to play stupid, tries to avoid an awkward interaction by pretending that he hasn't heard the conversation between his mother and Carole a mere floor below, but it must have been obvious given his current state of disarray.

He doesn't try incredibly hard to keep his cover; instead, he's mostly concerned with his ability to move as quickly as humanly possible as he rushes past Carole and out of Finn's room, down the stairs and towards his mother, barefoot and still dressed in his Spiderman pajamas as he practically leaps into her arms.

"Hi baby…" Shelby coos as she greets her son, lifting him further into her chest until the small boy is secured comfortably against her hipbone… She's holding him so tightly that he is nearly suffocating, but Noah allows the action to continue, basking against the understanding that his mother needs someone to hold onto right now, taking pride in the idea that that someone is him…

"Is Rachel sick again, momma?" Noah asks his mother, tilting his head upwards so that he can sneak a tentative glance in evaluation of her expression… She looks as she often does following her spending a long evening crying… Her eyes are puffy and red, her face swollen and blotch…

Shelby pauses momentarily as she shuffles for an appropriate response to Noah's question, her lips purse as she takes several steep, audible exhales… Noah can feel his mother's cool breath bouncing across the skin of his face, practically seeing the gears inside of her head churning through her eyes, made translucent with her continuous stream of tears, leaking without any means to an end, or so it seemed.

"Yeah buddy," Shelby sighs, she has yet to discover an appropriate way by which to explain to her son that Rachel never truly stopped being sick, she simply had her good days and she had her bad days… Unfortunately for them all, she seemed to be trapped in the midst of a large series of the bad. "But your sister is very, very sick this time around."

"Daddy says that she might go to heaven soon…" Noah looks up towards her inquisitively, looking for a confirmation, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion towards the idea that although his father had told him this, Finn had told him that Rachel couldn't die, because that was an assignment better designated to the grownups… "Is that true, momma?"

"Maybe, Noah…" Shelby's voice stutters through its softness as she forces the words she wants nothing more than to swallow from her mouth, unable to offer any more than a one worded response through her haze of grief… "How about we go and see her?"

The words _while we still can_ linger from her lips and into thin air, but they don't slip from her tongue with the acknowledgment that they are just much too painful for either the mother, or the sibling to consider at the moment.

"Shelby please, call me if you need anything okay?" Carole's profession interrupts Noah's vigorous head nod of approval towards the prospect of visiting his sister as she swings back around the staircase and onto the lower landing.

"I will…" Shelby nods, smiling sadly through her haze of tears. "Thank you Carole, for taking him…"

"Of course…" Shelby hikes her son slightly further upwards in her arms, and with one final nod towards Carole, she turns forcibly, walks towards her car, which she hadn't so much as bothered to turn off, and drags both Noah, as well as herself towards Lima Memorial Hospital for what could easily be the very last time…

* * *

><p>She doesn't let go of his hand the entirety of the time that they are walking, and although Noah is always pretending to be embarrassed about being seen in public with his mother holding relentlessly onto him, this time, he's secretly glad that he possesses the capacity of having someone to hold onto.<p>

Noah bounces animatedly alongside Shelby, his tiny hand embedded firmly into her palm as he walks on his tip-toes, embarking upon the typical gait of a six year old whose legs are just too short to keep up with those of his mother's.

The hospital lobby seemed remarkably different come nighttime… He had slept over in Rachel's hospital room a million times before, but still, he had never been down here during the night time… Noah was used to impossible crowds; doctors and nurses, patients in wheelchairs, people rushing through with balloons and flowers looking to pay a visit to their loved ones…

He was used to the carts full of food wheeling about the intricate passageways of the hospital lobby, the gift shop being impossibly packed, the man that always stood before the elevators, pointing people in the right direction greeting him and his family by name…

This air of unfamiliarity leaves an uncomfortable chill blowing like wind through Noah's veins, and he subconsciously presses his body further into his mother's for relief, his movements slowing slightly in response so that Shelby can't help but to involuntarily tub at Noah's arm just a little bit too firmly to be comfortable…

This wasn't the scenery that Noah has become so used to; this wasn't the surroundings that he had grown to become comfortable with… It was different, terrifying even, it left him overwhelmed with a sense of unnaturalness, of a diminished hope that maybe things weren't going to go as well as he'd foolishly convinced himself they'd be…

Noah holds his breath with a nervous anticipation the entirety of the elevator ride up to the sixth floor… Everything today has gone so seemingly awry that he's half expecting to emerge in a dark cave or a haunted mansion or something like that…

He convinces himself so much of this seeming inevitability that when they emerge in the familiar hall leading towards Rachel's room, and one of the first things that he sees is his father leaning up against the wall speaking with Dr. McCarthy, he's relieved…

Almost always happy to see his father, and excited to see the doctor that never misses an opportunity to tell Noah how big and strong he's getting, or how brave he has been being throughout all of this, his excitement bubbles rapidly inside of his chest before bursting without second thought… It becomes quickly obvious to Noah that today Dr. McCarthy's visit will be anything but friendly…

His father is crying harder than Noah has ever seen another man cry before… Noah's feet stop moving, his face sinks in a flushed horror… For the second time in one day, the child is struck with an incredulous sinking within his stomach; the reminder that his father was not made of steel after all; that he simply was only skin and bone, just like the rest of them were…

"Hiram…" His mother's voice hitches in her throat as she calls out to the man before them, her feet moving rapidly, speeding through the final handful of steps towards the two men's sides so that Noah is dragged directly behind her for a handful of seconds… "Hiram, what is it? What happened?"

Shelby's grasp around Noah's hand tightens exponentially until her grip is physically painful… He can feel his fingers crunching together against hers, bruising and swelling until he's nearly in tears, left slapping frantically at his mother's arm in an effort to force her to release him… But Shelby is seemingly frozen in time; she's waiting desperately for the lingering question as to what has happened to her daughter in her brief absence, waiting to be told that the worst has finally come.

"They want to take Rachel off of life support."

"I'm sorry, what?" Shelby leans forwards, asking for a repetition to her husband's words, as if in a silent desperation towards the idea that she's heard him wrong although she knows that she has not…

Shelby's body falls limp all around her, her muscles growing flaccid so that Noah capitalizes on the sudden opportunity to escape from her relentless clutches, ripping his hand out of his mother's in a forceful manner that Shelby doesn't even seem to notice…

"Shelby… What about Noah?" Hiram nods towards the boy as he catches his motions, reminding his mother of his presence about the circle, silently asking her whether or not she wants her young son present for this…

Shelby doesn't make a motion to indicate that she has heard Hiram, in fact she doesn't even turn to face him; a motion that Hiram takes as an answer in itself.

"Come on, buddy…" Hiram steps up to the task of dealing with their child currently not lying on their death bed, picking up the slack in a manner that Shelby can't seem to procure at the moment; an expert handoff based on their parental stability since mastered following Rachel's diagnosis.

He grabs at Noah by the boy's shoulders, steering him impulsively into Rachel's room, leaving his son shuddering involuntarily against him as the temperature drops dramatically all around him…

"What does that mean, daddy?" Noah can't help but to find himself as a relentless output of questioning tonight… He knows that something must have gone terribly, terribly wrong, and he knows that that something has to do with his sister, but for the life of him, no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to put together what all of these new terms such as _cardiac arrest_ and _life support_ actually mean… "To take somebody off of life support, what does that mean?"

"Noah buddy, I know that you must be very confused right now, but me and your mom are going to have to explain these things to you a little bit later…" Hiram chokes as his hand raises from its previous position against Noah's shoulder, leaving his son to his own devices right smack in the center of his comatose sister's ICU hospital room where he had absolutely nowhere to run, and even less places to hide. "Right now though, me and your mother need to talk to the doctor about… about what might happen to Rachel, I'm sorry Noah."

Noah retains silence in his strategic huff… He wants answers and he wants them now… He considers throwing a tantrum, considers demanding them from his father, considers using the argument that he has more than proven how brave he can be, how he can handle anything, how more times than not, his six year old self has managed to act as the beacon of emotional support in an otherwise hopeless situation…

""I want you to stay with Rachel until I'm back though, okay?" Hiram is already halfway out the door, leaving Noah behind in his wake… It's obvious to the boy that he wants to get back out and into the hallway and he wants to do so quickly. Noah has barely begun to nod his head in acknowledgment that he even heard his father when Hiram disappears behind the door, ensuring that the wooden panel closes in its entirety behind him so that Noah can't overhear a conversation that he probably won't be able to understand anyway…

With a heavy sigh Noah drags his feet towards the chair besides Rachel's bed that he had found his mother sleeping inside of earlier that day…

He doesn't particularly want to spend time alone with Rachel until his parents get back… As much as he does want another opportunity to say goodbye to her once more before she leaves, the idea of having to do so alone terrifies him… Almost as much as the idea of dying alone must scare Rachel, or so Noah believes.

The boy actively puts the idea of his selfish fears behind him at once.

"Hi Rachel," He greets his sister, half expecting her to respond although when she never does, he isn't entirely surprised, "I know that I wasn't supposed to see you again tonight, but momma came and got me while I was sleeping over at Finn's…"

The child finds that it grows easier to speak with his comatose sister the longer that he commits to the actual practice, and although at first, he considers the task rather foolish, speaking with somebody who doesn't even possess the capacity to speak back, he eases into the idea, adjusting relatively quickly until it seems almost as natural as talking to her had been when she was awake.

"I guess that you probably have to go soon," He sounds dejected with the mere idea, but seeing as his first formal goodbye to his sister hadn't exactly gone according to plan, he feels obligated for another chance. "I don't really want you to go because then I'll miss playing with you, but daddy says that heaven is a really nice place, and that maybe even after _I_ go there, we can play again then…"

He swings his backpack from around his back in an effort to increase his comfort as he settles into the abandoned chair, his eyes catching a glimpse of the flashy black and yellow decorative Batman logo across the front in a manner that has his neurons flashing with reminding…

"Hey, I wrote an essay about you for school today." His face brightens with remembrance as he immediately plunges into the backpack, most importantly, the folder that contained the precious document, located directly inside of it. "I think that you'll really like it a lot… I even let Finn's mom read it and it made her cry, but she said that they were happy tears because she liked it so much, so it's okay… Maybe… maybe it can even work to wake you up!"

He clears his throat in preparation, his heart swelling with an anticipatory excitement towards his latest theory projecting Rachel's full recovery…

"My hero is Rachel Corcoran…" He reads the title slowly, pausing periodically throughout the short sentence as he marks his speech with sharp glances upwards towards his sister… "Rachel is my sister, she is four years old and she is my hero for a lot of things… She is smart and she is a good singer like my mom and she is very brave. My sister Rachel is special; she's extra special because she is very, very sick… Rachel has cancer which means that everybody is very scared that she's gonna die, but I know she's not because of how strong she is."

"I like to visit Rachel in the hospital because when she's feeling good, we get to play with each other, just like normal, but when she isn't feeling good, I get to take care of her and make her feel better… When Rachel gets better she'll be able to go back to school and to dance class and she can play with me every day no matter what… Rachel isn't just my hero she's also my best friend other than Finn. One day, she will get to go to school and meet other friends but my mom says that me and Rachel will be special friends for the rest of our lives."

"My sister Rachel is very, very special. My mom tells me that I'm going to be able to be anything I want when I grow up, but that everybody already knows that Rachel is only going to be one thing; a star. She is going to be a famous singer one day, just like my mom was and she is going to beat cancer because she is more special than cancer is… Rachel tells me that she likes it when I am there in the hospital with her when she gets her medicine because it makes her feel better, but she doesn't know that it makes me feel better too because Rachel is my hero, but I really hope that she thinks that I am her hero too."

Noah finishes essay with a proud rush of relief and anticipation as he looks up from the paper and towards his sister… If his plan works accordingly, she should be waking up right about now, at the very least, stirring…

His heartfelt essay was supposed to revive her, it was supposed to provide her with enough life to come back to them… He watches her for several minutes; he's not speaking, not moving, barely even breathing as he waits for Rachel to move, to sit up, to open her eyes…

But no matter how long he stares, no matter how long he waits… she never does.

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><p><strong>Amandaes417<strong>** – Aww, I always love your reviews. Thank you so much!**

**CloudGazer15**** – I'm glad you're glad! I'm glad he's back too I love writing him, next chapter will skip back to present day Noah and give you some of the answers I've been so rudely holding back from you all. Thanks again, as always. **

**Crazy-wee-cat**** – Oh yay, I'm glad because Noah's got a bit of an emotional rollercoaster coming up and lots of pieces of his past coming back to haunt him soon so I'm glad you like angst because there's a lot of it coming up hahaha. **

**Marinka4 ****– Next chapter I promise! Sorry to keep you holding for so long!**

**Silver Dog Demon**** – Wow, I don't think thank you is enough to say how much I appreciated your beautiful, thought out review. I'm glad you can see such a comparison, I wrote them loosely based on my relationship with my brother so I'm glad you can see a comparison too. Sometimes I think my biggest problem is that I get too detailed (literally sometimes I keep writing and just can't stop). I appreciate the constructive criticism a lot writing into oblivion is something I've been trying to work on because I usually just pile things on cause I'm afraid I'm leaving things out but the next part is going to combine everything together and be more group oriented rather than individual (with a lot more Noah, I promise!) I'm not a huge fan of pregnancy story lines either but I'm glad it's worked in to your liking, there will be a bit of a twist with it next chapter… Once again thanks so much for the review it was much, much appreciated!**

**Baygirl123**** – Ahh sorry I got a little held up this week I'm hoping for the next one to be up sooner though! **

**Sweetdreamer94**** – Yay, thank you so, so much! I'm glad you're enjoying so far… Hahahahaa, and yes! GMEN!**

**Readerforlife**** – Glad you enjoyed! Thank you as always!**


	20. Noah Corcoran October 2011 Part II

**So, I got a little bit carried away with this chapter… In exchange for the wait, I made it really, really, really long (like almost 13,000 words long) so for those with ADD such as myself, I apologize, and for those of you that enjoy long chapters, this one's for you! **

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – October 2011_  
>(Part II)<em>

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><p>There's a significant difference in the presence of an emergency room triage unit with the added factor of what he can now consider, a group of his closest friends.<p>

While it had simply been but him and his mother, Noah had been left to wallow in the awkward acknowledgment of the fact that both desperately awaiting Corcoran's were looking for comfort while their counterpart struggled to provide the support the other needed as they reeled in their own lack of emotional stability.

With the added presence of the glee club, Noah no longer had to worry about comforting anyone other than himself; he didn't have to worry about taking care of his mother while simultaneously wondering who he was going to have to take care of himself…

They're standing in a cluster about the triage unit, blocking the door that Noah had just exited from and reflecting curious gazes from passerby as they linger against the glee club's perfectly coifed hair and matching outfits that have them instantaneously pinpointed as being one in the same group…

"Puck," Finn's single-handed comment becomes a whirlwind of questions as heads turn towards his general direction; bodies shoot upwards and into the air, a loud array of inquiries and insistencies towards answers fly across his ears.

He's surrounded by his peers, being shouted at in so many different directions that he can't process a single question, the words simply jumbling together so that they might as well be speaking to him in Chinese…

"Hold up, hold up… back off, you guys," Noah holds his hands upwards in a mock surrender in his attempt to formulate a clear radius about himself, trying to gain enough space to breathe as he is overwhelmed clear beyond the point of relief, "They're still running tests on her, but apparently she has a really bad chest infection and was just dehydrated… That's all we know for right now. My mom's with her right now, she's awake and she's doing okay… I guess."

He hadn't actually heard any of the questions as they were being directed towards him, but Noah had assumed that they'd all involved Rachel, or, more importantly, the status of her health… so this is how he addresses it.

"Typical," Santana snaps, her voice harsh and cold although when Noah's eyes narrow in towards his girlfriend, he notices that she's fidgeting with her hands, her fingers intertwining within each other… It was her characteristic nervous habit; Noah had discovered it only recently after her insurmountable bouts of stress over the past few months... "Leave it to the hobbit to blow Regionals with her big at and to not even be dying."

Santana scoffs; she's crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to hide her squirming – she must have noticed Noah's staring…

Her reaction towards what is generally looked upon as good news is met with an expected reaction; shouts of protest erupt across the emergency room, curious bystanders shooting glances towards the sounds of displeasure as they escape from the throats of the glee club.

Noah retains his neutral silence; he doesn't have a means by which to respond to his girlfriend's brash comments, no matter the intentions; whether they be from fear, or meant of all seriousness…

His best friend on the other hand, seems to have completely polar intentions, Finn's eyes narrowing inwards towards the young Latina as him and Noah perform abrupt role reversals in the manner of over protectiveness.

"You know what Santana, if you're not going to be here to support your boyfriend or his sister, than you can just leave, okay?" Finn marches directly into Santana's face, hovering threateningly over her much smaller frame.

"Finn…" Noah sighs, his voice so low that he's shocked that anybody has even heard him…

But despite his uncertainties, Noah's friends fall silent all around him, eyes glancing slowly towards his general direction, waiting for his response… He isn't completely certain how to address Finn's reaction; his best friend standing up for his sick sister more than even himself at the moment… He's so turned around by this sudden reversal of roles that he can't find it inside of himself to commit to a follow through, so that instead, he falls into silence, eyeing his friends quickly before his glance lingers upon his girlfriend, his previous sense of relief replaced with more concern than that by which he'd even experienced before now that he's added Santana to his list of people to worry himself over.

His eyes lock but temporarily with those of Santana's, absorbing her sorrow-filled uncertainty, his emotions bunching impossibly within his brain as Santana's initially perceived rage disintegrates immediately into something much deeper, something that tells Noah that there's something more inside of there… something a lot more.

Santana Lopez turns away without so much as another word, but not before Noah has caught the very beginnings of a swell of tears swarming around the undersides of her eyes…

She erupts into an abrupt, impressive sprint, rushing down the entirety of the hallway, halfway down its length before anybody can even think to stop her, her teased skirt bouncing animatedly against her thighs as her legs pump so rapidly about her that they appear as nothing more than a distant blur.

"Just let her cool off, dude…" Finn suggests, coming up alongside him as he places a supportive hand against his shoulder, one that Noah subconsciously shrugs off as he advances several paces forwards towards the direction that Santana has escaped towards.

"No…" Noah pauses, averting his eyes from the direction that Santana has just disappeared beyond only to glance quickly towards Finn, attempting to read his expression, "I need to go talk to her."

"Okay," Finn nods after but a brief pause, expressing a sense of understanding although his face is skewed in the same manner as it always is when he's particularly unsure of something. "I'll text you if somebody comes out about Rachel, okay…"

"Yeah," Noah nods quickly towards his best friend as he pushes through his cluster of friends… He doesn't have the heart to tell Finn that he isn't expecting news to actually come any time soon…

For as fast as she was running, and as far as she was seemingly trying to get, Noah manages to find Santana with a relative ease.

She's tucked away inside of a small alcove besides the elevators that the janitors all used during the night shifts to transport carts of soiled linens and old, broken stretchers into the basement… During the day, the area remained relatively uninhabited, just as Noah was certain, Santana had intended.

"Hey…" Noah isn't sure what else to say so he chooses the most generic greeting possible, sliding downwards against the wall until he is seated directly besides Santana, who doesn't respond to him, only retains her position with her face buried deep inside of her hands, her knees pressed upwards and into her chest so that she makes herself as small as humanly possible.

Sighing heavily, Noah reaches around Santana's shoulders, wrapping her close and pulling her deep into her body; an invitation that she openly, albeit silently accepts as she rests herself heavily against him.

"It's okay San… shh, calm down, it's okay, I've got you…" He attempts to sooth her, her body rocking against his own as he speaks in comforting tones, his hand kneading against her shoulder the entirety of the time, attempting to work out the kinks that seem to be causing her so much distress at the moment. "You shouldn't be getting yourself this worked up, you know; it can't be good for the baby."

Her sobs stop with a sharp abruptness, and for the briefest of seconds, Noah believes himself to have struck a chord inside of her, that maybe, just maybe he's finally found a means by which to calm her down for a change.

"I'm not pregnant…"

Her voice is so soft, so thickly laden with residual tears that at first, Noah doesn't believe that he's actually heard her correctly.

"What?" His eyes narrow downwards upon her in his asking of her to repeat herself, trying to clarify the belief that he had indeed heard her wrong, that it simply was not possible for her to have possibly stated something too positively ludicrous to be true.

She doesn't answer him immediately; instead, her head tilts slowly upwards, her large, tear-filled eyes dancing across his own… He can read the motion of her throat muscles as she swallows heavily, her body trembling slightly before finally, she responds to his request to repeat herself…

"I'm not pregnant…" She speaks clearer, louder; and this time, there's no mistaking the words that fall from her mouth…

"W-what are you talking about, Santana?" His mouth hangs wide in his shock… He's not exactly certain what she's trying to tell him… Had she lost the baby? Had she simply been lying to him all along? He can't be positive, which is why he begs himself not to be brash, not to automatically assume the latter…

"I thought I was at first Noah, you have to believe me that I did…" Her voice is shaking, he can see the tears as they begin to leak harder and harder down the length of her cheeks, but all at once, he finds himself out of sympathy, teetering at the beginnings of a rage that he hasn't experienced in a long time, a rage that leaves him so unsure as to how to react, that he's positively trembling in the buildup. "I took the test at home and it came back positive, but a couple of weeks ago I went to the doctor with Brittney and he told me that it was a false positive… that I'm not pregnant."

The silence hangs before them until it hurts, and Noah finds himself no longer able to retain it… He explodes under the certainty that losing his cool would be less painful than controlling it.

"A couple of weeks…" His voice is enunciated; sharp and soft so that it scares even himself, leaving him unsurprised when Santana shrinks away from him in her fear. "How long have you known that you're not pregnant, Santana; how long have you let me go on thinking every single day about how unprepared I am to be a father when I'm not even going to be!"

"Three weeks…" She all but whispers through the steepest of exhales; had Noah's ears have not been so poised with adrenaline, he is certain that he would have missed it.

"Three weeks!" He erupts suddenly in his rage. He's so angry that he isn't even sure how to react. He can't help but to scream despite the idea that he is more than certain that his voice is carrying throughout the entirety of the emergency room, maybe even beyond… "Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me? I have been panicking over how I'm going to end up nothing more than a deadbeat teenage father and a permanent Lima loser for almost two months, and you have been keeping this from me for two whole weeks!"

There are tears in his eyes, but they're representative of nothing more than the fact that he is so impossibly angry that his body can't seem to come up with another means by which to respond to this overwhelming emotion…

Her actions are immediately reciprocated; she is wailing in her anguish, in her understanding of how badly she's messed up, but he can't seem to bring himself to care; instead, he is satisfied with the idea that she feels at least a fraction of the pain that he does in this moment.

"Did you know that before all of this happened with Rachel that I was going to tell my mom about us tonight?" His voice is quiet once more, but for some reason, this just makes Santana cringe with fear alongside the understanding that he is merely caught up within the eye of the storm that has since become his thoughts, "I almost ruined everything! I almost lost everything that I have ever worked for because of this! What else have you been lying to me about, Santana?"

"Nothing…" She chokes; her face growing increasingly blotchy, her eyes swollen red in her tears.

"Stop playing dumb with me like I'm some kind of fucking idiot!" The volume behind his voice is elevated once more, rising above all of their heads so that all at once, he is up and on his feet, hovering over the still seated Santana, currently cowering in her sudden expression of vulnerability…

He isn't sympathetic, he disregards her fear without second thought; and in his lack of caring, he finds himself suddenly hating her even more…

"I know how terrible you have been to Rachel ever since we were kids, I know that you have cheated on me with every fucking guy at school and God only knows who else," He lists off her perceived flaws, spitting them violently into her face as he tallies them off one by one against his fingers, "And I know that you have been in love with Brittney from the very first day that you fucking met her, and that you're either too stupid, or too scared of what everybody else will think about you to admit it! I was stupid enough to fall into your trap just like everybody else always does once, Santana, but that's it, I'm done with this; I'm done with you!"

"Noah…"

"No!" He cuts her off harshly, shaking away her please, "I want you to leave."

"Noah, please," She's begging him through her sobs, pleading for his forgiveness, her voice laden with the heaviness of tears and desperation. "I'm sorry."

"I want you to leave." He repeats his command, all but growling at her; his voice low, brute, thick with emotion.

"Why are you doing this, Noah?" He can't help but to scoff at her as his ex demands an explanation; this much, he believes, should be obvious.

"Because nobody should ever have to feel the way that I do right now, that's why." He shoots back in his return, "Now go, I don't have time for this; I can't be worrying about you when I have my family to think about… Go home Santana, we're through."

Her eyes linger but for a brief second; just long enough for him to watch as a geyser of tears erupts from each one before she turns away in her refusal towards giving him the satisfaction of seeing her like this, rushing away from him for the second time in the past several minutes alone.

This time, he doesn't even bother trying to follow.

Hunching forwards, Noah squeezes his eyes shut in an effort to stem the tears that are stinging threateningly at the corners of his eyes. In an effort to stabilize his emotions, he rubs his calloused hands through the top of his head, frizzing his previously perfect mohawk, weaving his fingers through the air as he attempts to wrap his brain around what the hell had just happened to him; what the hell had just happened to _them_…

He considers the multitude of hours that he has spent wasting his thoughts on worrying over Santana, of worrying over a baby that had never even existed, and suddenly, he is overcome with yet another surge of anger, this time, more powerful than that by which he had even experienced previously…

Overcome with the frightening desire to create physical damage, he shoots upwards into a perfectly erect position, his muscular arm drawing back on its own accord until the tendons of his shoulder are stretched painfully, ready to spring forwards so that his fist flies as hard as it can, directly through the wall before him; a physical record of yet another failed relationship.

A legal document whose signature is embedded within a newly formed, fist shaped hole inside of the wall.

"So much for cooling off, huh…" Noah's knees were just sliding into his chest, his body sinking against the floor below him when he hears his best friend rounding the corner, pausing to stand inquisitively above him where he is clearly looking for an explanation as to why his notoriously emotionless friend has been reduced to a sobbing heap against the floor; characterized by a few tears and a busted hand.

Noah responds with a shaky exhale that he emphasizes through his nostrils, the noise echoing across the otherwise empty alcove so that he roughly resembles an enraged bull… He can't help but to think that maybe, this might actually be a very accurate description of his emotions at the moment.

"What the hell happened, dude?" Finn's tone changes abruptly… He transforms from simple joking to a complete seriousness in a manner of seconds, "Santana just rushed out of here in tears… What did you do, break up with her or something?"

Finn snickers at what he's believed to a cleverly placed comment as if it had all meant to be nothing more than a joke… When Noah responds with nothing more than a lengthy silence, Finn's face simply falls, his eyes widen, and as dense as Finn can be at times, he suddenly realizes that he has just hit the nail on the head, despite the idea that he hadn't particularly been intending to do so.

"Shit…" Finn breathes… He is having a completely one-sided conversation with himself, Noah having yet to respond to a single thing that he's said; his facial expressions and lack of correcting a single thing that Finn has since asked, providing the boy with all of the answers that he needs…

"What happened?" Finn sinks to the floor besides Noah, providing him with the first open-ended question that leaves him no choice but to finally respond.

"A couple of weeks ago…"Noah begins, but he pauses quickly in an attempt to decipher the best means by which to approach this conversation… He quickly realizes that there simply is no best way, and instead, chooses to rip the Bandaid straight off of the skin, "A couple of weeks ago, Santana told me that she was pregnant."

"Holy shit…" Finn's mouth drops instantaneously; his response immediate and unintentional, but he simply does not have the time to process his shock before the expressions lips from beyond his mouth… Noah doesn't blame him; he probably would have done exactly the same. "What are you guys gonna do about it?"

"Nothing…" Noah sighs, shaking his head slightly, his rage dissipating into defeat as Finn eyes him confusedly, "There is no baby… Santana was lying to me the entire time."

"Jesus… that's insane dude, I mean… is there anything that I can do?" Finn doubles back and forth between his shock and the necessity of trying to be the supportive friend… In all honesty, Noah is just happy that Finn isn't pissed at him for retaining such big news for so long.

"No," Noah shakes his head quickly, his voice curt and abrupt as he emphasizes Finn's lack of necessity towards helping his best friend through a mess that he alone had gotten himself into… "I took care of it, see?" Noah flashes Finn, his bruised and battered knuckles, the tiny specks of white plaster still adorning the open wounds from where they had punctured through the thin walls, fresh bruises highlighting the arches of the seemingly mismatched bone in an impressive array of blues and purples.

"That doesn't look so good man," Finn cringes for his friend, his stomach churning in his characteristic bout of squeamishness, "You should probably get it looked at, you might have broken a couple of knuckles…

"My mom is stressed out enough as it is with one kid in the ER, Finn," Noah expresses quickly, but one of the many reasons he has not to go see a doctor at the moment, but his words register to Finn as more of an excuse than anything, "She doesn't need another…"

"At least clean it off or something, man, it looks… I don't know… gross." Finn's suggestion is met with nothing more than silence; Noah knows how to take care of himself, he knows that that his actions had been stupid; he's simply not in the mood to have somebody else stating the obvious for him – he ignores Finn easily.

"So…" Finn breathes awkwardly, only after the silence has hung above their heads long enough to border on the beginnings of being uncomfortable."What are they thinking… about Rachel, I mean?" Finn recognizes Noah's lack of wanting to discuss himself, rerouting the conversation upon his sister, much to the general approval of Noah.

"I don't know…"The pain of admitting all that he does not know creeps steadily up his spine, suddenly making matters even worse so that this time, when Noah and Finn fall silent amongst one another, it's past the point of being uncomfortable; it downright hurts.

"Listen man, I know that you didn't want to go into details outside with the rest of the glee club around and all, and I get that, but I'm not them… I remember what happened to Rachel when we were all kids; you don't have to put up a front and act like everything is fine in front of me, okay?" Finn delivers his monologue, and Noah attempts to smile and nod appreciatively upwards towards him, but his expression is registered as no more than a frightful grimace… He can't bring himself to smile; hell, he can't even bring himself to tell Finn just how much he appreciates having a friend who understands where it is that he's coming from, what it is that he is going through, how it is that he is feeling…

It makes any and every difference on his emotional stability, and yet suddenly, Noah can't even bring himself to tell Finn this…

"They don't know…" Puck chokes, his voice raw in his pent up emotions, shooting towards him at every which angle, "They're still waiting for the test results, but I have a bad feeling, Finn… I don't think that this is going to be good... It's not going to be good at all."

"It makes you think a lot, huh?" Finn sighs, directing the question towards his distraught best friend, his hand reaching upward to knead tightly against the boy's shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Noah sniffles, wiping quickly at his eyes before diverting them upwards towards Finn… If their football teammates could have seen their two co-captains right now, the gay jokes would have haunted them to their graves, but suddenly, Noah doesn't care… He wants comfort, he wants support, and he doesn't care from whom, or from where he gets it from.

"Just about everything that you are…" Finn sighs, his head shaking slowly back and forth as if awed by the mere thought; much larger than any of them. "What you've done, what you've accomplished… what kind of person that you're becoming. It's crazy, you know?"

Noah thinks about this, considers Finn's every word carefully… Crazy isn't exactly the word to describe what it is that he is feeling right now; in fact, the reminder that he is retaining complete sanity amidst this chaos is what left him so confused… So no, crazy isn't exactly the right word for it…

Instead, it is something else… Something that leaves him no longer caring; no longer caring about his reputation, no longer caring about his football prospects, no longer caring about why his glee club hadn't even placed in Regionals today… and that something, is certainly not _insanity_.

"No," Noah corrects his best friend quickly, "It's grounding."

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><p>By the time the evening strikes with the general whir of dismissal and a rapidly diminishing sunlight, sinking downwards from the sky much earlier than anyone would have ever preferred, the Corcoran's find that their patience is rapidly diminishing.<p>

The remainder of the day had proceeded with a relative silence which, much to the dismay of the small, still awaiting family had extended into the hospital staff, none of whom have seemed to have received so much as an inkling of news from the apparently snail-paced lab in the basement below.

All three had understandably begun to grow restless.

"Got any threes?" Noah asks his sister quietly as she shakes her head slowly, an equal haze of indisputable boredom splayed across either of the siblings' faces as they relish in a card game that has not entertained them since they were in elementary school.

"Go fish," She mutters, her words muffled by the hand resting against her chin as Noah reaches across the pile of cards, disheveled amidst the sheets of Rachel's bed in an effort to pick out the card that he is hoping to be the one that could just end this stupid game already… But of course, he is met with no such luck.

Noah has been trying to entertain Rachel all afternoon, trying to keep the both of their minds off of things, seeing as how all of their lives were seemingly crumbling all around them… He wants nothing more than to stop thinking about Santana; she wants nothing more than to stop thinking about her looming test results…

"I heard that you and Santana broke up earlier…" Rachel mutters her surprise revelation in the place of her turn; sick and tired of sitting around playing childish card games with so much hanging in between them.

"How'd you hear that?" Noah splutters over his question, quickly glancing about t he room to ensure that their mother hadn't been hanging around anywhere within earshot… Did news really travel around William McKinley High School this quickly? Had the rumors already begun to spread, the facts already begin to seep through the faulty cracks that were their gossip mongering classmates?

"Kurt called me before," Rachel shrugs casually, "He said that Finn told him…"

Noah's hands clench into fists instantaneously; he doesn't want to believe that his best friend was willing to spread what was supposed to be strictly classified information, but Finn has also been known to run his mouth without particularly meaning to do so at times, or understanding the consequences…

"Don't worry…" Rachel must have noticed her brother's reaction to the news, because she makes the move to calm him immediately, "Nobody else knows."

"Did he tell you why?" Noah wonders aloud, wanting to know just how many details Finn has allowed to slip onto his step brother.

"No," Rachel shakes her head, "Which is why I'm asking you as a concerned sister, and future aunt…" A pang radiates across Noah's heart alongside the reminder that she isn't going to be an aunt… not any time soon anyway; and as much as he knows that this information should sooth him, it doesn't. "What are you going to do about the baby now?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and Noah can tell from the look on his sister's face that she's perceiving his silence as the worst possible intentions…

"Noah, you can't just-"

"There is no baby, Rach!" He blurts suddenly, his words immediately silencing his sister. "There never was. Santana was lying; she was just trying to keep us together while she ran off sleeping with anybody that she could get her hands on."

"Wait, she just made the entire thing up?" Rachel's head is spinning with the multitude of information that Noah has just unloaded upon her; what it actually means for her, for her brother, for their family… "She was cheating on you?"

"Well… I don't know about that last part… I kind of just assumed." Noah shrugs; in all honesty, he is simply looking for something else to blame on Santana at the moment, and this seems like the perfect outlet.

"That's not fair, Noah…" Leave it up to his sister to project sympathy onto the girl that has just taken his heart and shattered it into a million pieces… Rachel always did have the uncanny ability of seeing the very best in even the worst of people.

"She lied to me!" Noah screams, but reconsiders almost immediately, his eyes darting towards the open doorway and into the hall in an effort to ensure that he hasn't attracted any unwanted attention… The hallway seems abandoned; he deems it safe, but at the same time, decides to drop his voice all the same.

"I'm sorry…" Rachel identifies via her brother's outburst, just how broken up he appears to be over the entirety of the situation, and she changes her tune, her sympathy projecting outwards and onto her brother.

"Don't be, it's not your fault." Noah's tone softens immediately as he is reminded painfully of the fact that his sister doesn't deserve to be yelled at; not when she's projecting nothing but sympathy onto him, sick in the hospital. "Anyways, you shouldn't be worrying about me; you should be concentrating on getting yourself better."

"I don't want to concentrate on me right now, Noah…" Rachel sighs, indicating that she is actually glad for the opportunity to have gotten her mind off of things for a moment or two… even if it was at her brother's own expense. "I can't."

He pauses in consideration of her words, racking his brain in search of something else that they could discuss other than Santana or the state of Rachel's health…

"Hey, I know something that might cheer you up," He tells her, "Did you know that all of the glee club came to see you this afternoon… even Quinn was here." He laughs towards the idea of Quinn's presence although he isn't sure why… He never believed himself to have ever seen the day, but he can't help but notice that lately, it almost seems as if Quinn and Rachel has been growing into something that can almost be considered friends. "Dr. McCarthy wouldn't let them all up though… They did tell me to tell you to get better soon though, and Finn promised that he'd swing by tomorrow with Kurt to check up on you."

Noah highly doubts that Rachel has actually caught the tail end of Noah's sentence…. She begins to swoon the second that she hears Finn's name as related to the idea that he will be at the hospital with her, tending to her sick bedside…

Noah just rolls his eyes; he tries to ignore the bubbling sensation of rage as it boils inside of his stomach, and is just about to crack some wise ass comment in an effort to settle his nerves when something else catches in the corner of his eye through the large window that separates Rachel's hospital room from the hallway.

Dr. McCarthy.

The man approaches his mother, who is chatting nervously on her phone directly outside of the closed door gently… She hangs up almost instantaneously upon the doctor's hand resting against her shoulder, looking downwards upon her with tired, morose eyes…

His lips are moving quickly, Shelby's reciprocating with an equal speed and Noah tries to slow it all down, tries to read their lips, their expression, but everything just seems so neutral in the haze of the unknown, in all of his fears… He can't make heads or tails out of their silent conversation.

All he does know is that the second he sees Shelby's face falling, taking a dramatic plunge into an expression of utmost fear, his heart freezes, constricting painfully inside of his chest so that all at once, he's glad he's already inside of a hospital because he's certain that he's having a heart attack.

"Rachel?" Noah can't read the doctor's expression as he walks through the front door leading inwards towards the room's interior; and when he does automatically shoot upwards from his seat in an effort to get a better look at the man, it only seems to make his ability to read the man even worse.

"I hear that you're feeling a little better…" The doctor all but ignores the expression shot towards him by the concerned brother, concentrating solely on the root of his visit to begin with, watching as Rachel nods her head vigorously in an effort to confirm the idea that being pumped full of antibiotics and saline all day has indeed left her feeling genuinely better than she has in the past several days…

"Good… good," His voice is distant and monotone, indicative of the idea that it didn't quite matter how Rachel was feeling, it wasn't about to change the results of her lab work, clutched firmly between the doctor's fingers within a thin, manila envelope… "Well Rachel, I'm sorry for the delay but we do finally have the results of your tests back."

The man rounds further into the room and Noah sucks in a deep breath, inhaling sharply before holding the air inside of his lungs as Shelby's hands automatically dart outwards and grasp around her children's; her fingers clutching about Rachel's, the right, Noah's…

It's as if they already know what it is that this doctor has to say before he's so much as spoken, and suddenly, he is feeling weak at the knees, terrified of falling even though he's sitting down.

A collective silence washes over the entirety of the room. Noah's mouth is feeling so dry that he can't even open it, his lungs burning quickly in their insistencies that he breathe,, insistencies that Noah can't seem to grant the vital organ…

All at once, he can't believe that it was only this morning that his biggest concern was of his glee club placing at Regionals… He can't believe that what had seemed so normal then, now feels positively insane.

"I'm sorry…" He's expecting these words, but that doesn't make hearing them any easier; he still feels as if they'd struck him like a knife to the heart. "The biopsy that we took yesterday shows that Rachel is in clinical relapse-"

"- The cancer is back."

* * *

><p>"<em>Noah?" He chokes, as in his surprise; he takes a painfully strong inhale of his cigarette, the tobacco filtering through his lungs so that they are left burning, struggling to take in any oxygen.<em>

_ "Jesus, Rachel…" The boy expresses his distaste towards being snuck up upon through a handful of lingering coughs as his fit dies down into silence, leaving him to pull himself into a seated position against the rough shingles of the rooftop directly below his second story bedroom window. "Don't you know not to sneak up on a guy when he's lying on a roof?_

_ "What are you doing out here?" She asks him, ignoring his comment as she lingers in the space between the open window and the safety of the solid ground below her feet indoors. _

_ "What does it look like?" He asks, taking an exaggerated drag of his cigarette… Rachel only rolls her eyes at his failed attempt towards coming off as cool, hoping that in the motion, he could understand just how stupid he looks at the moment. _

_ "I like to come out here to think sometimes…" He sighs with the understanding, providing her with a slightly more honest answer than before, "Wanna join?" _

_ "Sure…" Rachel agrees, much to Noah's surprise as she carefully climbs through the window and out onto the open rooftop, moving with slow, orchestrated motions… Rachel has never been one for heights, and even though a plunge from the roof probably wouldn't result in an overwhelming amount of damage, she still clutches onto the window sill as if she were climbing out onto the hundredth floor of a New York City skyscraper…_

_ "So why were you looking for me anyway, midget?" He asks only after Rachel has finally settled into a seated position besides him…_

_ Rachel pauses, ignoring her brother's comment towards her height as she watches him lay against the shingles; eyes closed, arms behind his head in a makeshift pillow as he inhales yet another steep drag of his cigarette. _

_ "I have an idea," The twelve year old informs him shyly, looking away from her brother despite the fact that he isn't trying to make eye contact with her to begin with… "You know, for you to get back into William McKinley."_

_ "Don't bother, Rach," Noah shakes his head towards his little sister's insistencies, her relentless persistence towards helping Noah to get his life back in order… He wishes that he could bring himself to care as much as she does, "It's impossible."_

_ "It isn't!" Rachel insists loudly, her voice echoing down the length of the otherwise silent street, quieted in the late night hours, "Why aren't you even trying, Noah? I know that you want to get out of that crappy high school that you're in; I know that you want to go back to all of your friends at William McKinley… Why don't you care?" _

_This of course, is an excellent question; he wishes that he could provide her with an answer that doesn't sound like just another excuse, but he can't… It was all that Noah Corcoran was ever good for; excuses. _

"_Do you ever wish that nobody knew who you were, Rachel?" He asks, unsure himself, of where exactly this question was coming from, "That you were just all alone all the time?" _

_ "Yes," Rachel shrugs, and Noah knows that she is speaking the truth… His sister might be young, but she was much smarter than she would ever give herself credit for. _

_ "That's why I don't care…"_

_ "You're the first one that you're fooling if you make yourself believe that this is going to be easy, Noah." His eyes snap open immediately, turning towards the young pre-teen before him so that he can evaluate her carefully in his struggle to believe that those words had actually been emitted from his twelve year old sister's mouth… _

_He had never heard better advice in his entire life. _

"_All you have to do is work harder," She constructs her plan into conscious thoughts, taking his silence as an indication to continue each time, "Get your grades up, prove that you're trying to change… That means no more getting arrested, no more drinking, and no more of this…" Rachel plucks the cigarette from between his lips with two fingers, holding it as far away from her body as humanly possible as if disgusted by the mere idea of the thing before she flicks it off of the roof…_

_ Noah can only stare at her, his mouth still hanging open slightly, holding the invisible cigarette between his teeth… He is suddenly wondering why it is that he could never even dream to be as brave as his little sister. _

_ "How am I supposed to stay out of trouble?" He can't believe that he is responding to her ideas; he's had more people approach him to help than he could ever keep track of; counselors, teachers, his own mother… Needless to say, none of them had worked, and now, his little sister was talking the most sense that he has heard in a very long time. _

"_Football…" She breaths outwards in a manner that tells Noah that she has been constructing this plan for quite some time now. "It's not too late to try out for the team, Noah… It's all right here for you, don't let it get behind you, okay?" _

_ Noah considers his sister's words in silence for a long time… He'd thought about trying out for the football team at LHSCE but had lost interest in the sport relatively quickly, much like he had lost interest in practically everything else he had ever done before this school…_

_ But maybe Rachel was right, maybe that had been foolish… Maybe he was allowing everything to get behind him while he was too busy getting caught up in feeling sorry for himself. _

"_You're a threat to the evil in us all Rachel, did you know that?" The boy jokes through a small smile, leaning back down across the rooftop; but this time, when his eyes glisten across the clear night sky above him, it strikes him with the idea that maybe, just maybe, this universe wasn't as small as he had initially believed. _

* * *

><p>It's been an hour, but it feels like a lifetime.<p>

His head is freezing cold, yet still, he can't seem to lift it from the cool surface of the vending refrigerator that has dispensed his overpriced soda five minutes ago with him still yet to have made the move to reach down to grab it…

It's been several minutes since Noah had made the decision to walk out of his sister's hospital room with the claim that he just needed some fresh air that he needed to clear his mind, much like how he was certain that his mother had to, his sister… but couldn't.

He can only assume that some people simply possessed the natural capacity to stay and cope with tragedy more so than other's… Noah envied these people, because lately it seems as if it were almost as if he was positively born to run away…

He had acquired this trait from his father.

Rachel had been a mess upon Noah's abrupt exit, and Noah couldn't blame her; he was a mess, and he it hadn't even been him that had just been diagnosed with cancer once more…

She was hyperventilating inside of their mother's arms when he'd made the self-appointed decision to leave before he could be reduced into a withering mess before her… That was the last thing that Rachel needed right now, not with all of the uncertainties of her future waving above their heads, the fear of having to go through with this all over again…

"_I wanna go home…" Rachel exhales sharply as Dr. McCarthy's back turns from the room and out of sight in an effort to offer the family some time to process the devastating news before he would return to discuss the necessity of various treatment options._

_ "I know you do sweetheart…" Shelby coos, wiping a soft hand across the top of Rachel's head as Noah responds by simply sinking even further downwards against his seat, "But you can't just yet, okay? We have to set up a plan; we have to get you started on treatment…"_

_ "You're not listening to me mom!" Rachel has begun to yell, her voice carrying outwards and into the hall… Noah can't help but to notice as a curious nurse peers into the room in response to the noise, only to immediately continue along on her previous journey, trying to pretend as if she hadn't just heard a family falling apart at the seams from through the thin walls, "I want to go home." This time, Rachel articulates her words so that Noah understands exactly what she is trying to say… And judging by the look that flashes across Shelby's eyes, so does his mother. _

_ "Rachel, please…" Shelby pleads with the girl, "I know that this is hard but you have to fight… we all do."_

_ "I don't want to do it again," Rachel speaks bluntly and Noah's heart leaps instantly into his throat… Was it possible for Shelby to force treatment upon Rachel even if she truly didn't want it? He hopes so; after all, she was still a minor… but at the same time, he can't help but to fear that nobody could truly force a person into a treatment that they clearly did not want… even if it was designed to save her life._

_ "We're all going to be here to do this with you, Rach," Shelby tries to perform the daunting task of both comforting her daughter, as well as trying to convince her to make the seemingly right decision, "Me and Noah…"_

_ "What about dad?" It was possible in that moment, to have cut the tension lingering inside of the room with a knife… All three of them freeze at Rachel's words, at the reminder that they have offered. "He's not going to be here, and that's because of everything that happened the last time that I had to do this." _

"_Don't worry about him, Rachel…" Noah intervenes suddenly, breaking his lengthy bit of silence that had lingered up into this point, the necessity to remind Rachel that he wasn't going to leave her like their father had done obvious in this moment…_

"_I'll take care of you… I promise." _

He has gone back on his promise to unconditionally care for his sister already, and it hadn't even been an hour since he's made it… They hadn't even reached the hardest part yet, or else, even come close to it… He feels as though he has already abandoned his sister.

He feels an insurmountable surge of disappointment directed towards himself as he decides that he has had more than enough time to clear his head, that even if he hadn't, that his family needs him in this moment, that they're more important…

Lifting himself upwards and away from his temporary safe haven as provided by a soda machine, he doesn't even remember to grab the carbonated beverage that e has paid for before he's rounding back towards Rachel's room, immediately noticing the commotion that is surrounding it from all the way down the hall…

His feet subconsciously pick up their pace immediately… Something is wrong.

Has Rachel taken a sudden turn for the worse already? Was it possible that things have delved deeper beyond her original diagnosis that this relentless disease has somehow managed to kill her already?

He doesn't even realize that he's running until he is brought to a painful halt upon smacking straight upwards and against the doorframe…

The first thing that he notices is that his mother has been crying. The second is that Rachel is nowhere to be found.

He didn't previously believe it to be possible for a human heart to stop as abruptly as Noah's does in this instant; but suddenly, he knows it to be true.

"Mom?" His voice is trembling as he pleads for answers using the least amount of words possible… Shelby ducks beneath the hoards of nurses and security guards surrounding her as the flitted up and down about the room… She speeds up her last handful of steps towards him, and he opens up his arms automatically, allowing his mother to fall inside of them into an embrace that is eagerly returned, his mother clearly looking for a sense of comfort in the moment, looking for somebody to tell her that everything was going to be okay…

"What's wrong? What happened?" He has to build himself up towards asking the question… He isn't so sure that he actually wants to know the answer.

"I went into the bathroom to wash up about forty five minutes ago…" Shelby relays the story for what Noah is certain must be the millionth time, her voice choking up at the mere memory, "When I came out Rachel was gone… She's missing, Noah… nobody can find her anywhere."

"Okay… okay…" Noah breaths rapidly, begging his body to relax in the presence of his already nervous mother, but how can he? His sister is missing… his sister is sick, and she is missing… Absolutely nothing about this situation screams hope. "It will be okay, she couldn't have gone too far…"

He has a fleeting vision of Rachel shuffling through the crowded hospital exit wearing nothing but a hospital gown, still attached to an IV and is overwhelmed with a calming sense towards the reminder that she couldn't have possibly gotten too far wandering around like that without anybody noticing…

Or could she have?

"I'll go look for her," Noah assigns himself the vital task, pulling his body away from his mother's as his mind immediately begins spiraling, spinning in circles about all of the possible places that Rachel could have since run off to, "She probably just went somewhere to clear her head.

He pauses, reflecting upon his own words as they strike a chord deep within the very pits of his memory…

"I think I know where she is…" He whispers, a spark of hope flashing across Shelby's eyes as she sees the truth behind her son's revelation… But Noah refuses to pause in order to linger upon it; whether she is in danger or not, he knows that he needs to get to Rachel, and he needs to do so quickly; if not for her own sake, than for that of the rest of them.

"Be careful, Noah!" Shelby calls out to him; he can feel her eyes as they follow him the entirety of the journey down the length of the hall, lingering until finally, he turns the corner and disappears out of site entirely…

"Code Pink,"

Noah hears the announcement echo across the intercom, and he stumbles briefly over the automated message as it radiates downwards upon him…

"Code Pink, Six North."

Noah has been around hospitals long enough to know how the coding systems work around here… There were all of the usual ones; Code Blue indicates a medical emergency like a cardiac arrest, Code Red representative of a fire, Code Brown for inclement weather alerts…

But then there were the more unusual announcements, the ones that didn't quite have the opportunity to be used as often as the other ones did…

Code Green for internal disasters, Code Yellow for the incoming of a mass casualty incident, Code Grey for a combative person or assault…

Code Pink for a missing child.

He's racing through the darkened halls, his head swiveling back and forth frantically as he searches for a glimpse of his sister…

Noah has a good idea as to where she just might be hiding, but the idea that he is wrong, the possibility that she isn't actually there terrifies him… He knows full well that nobody should be allowing her to wander off on her own right now…

And he knows this, because there is no way in hell that she would ever have allowed him to have done so either.

* * *

><p><em>He's not at all surprised that she has managed to make this happen. <em>

_She has somehow managed to turn his life from a living nightmare into a peaceful dream state all in a matter of weeks, yet still, he is not in the slightest bit shocked. _

_She has made the hopeless into the possible, the reckless kid into the hometown hero, and all the while, the only thing that he is truly left questioning, is how it is that they ever possible came from the same place, from the same body; how Rachel has seemingly possessed the capacity to do everything, anything, and why it is that he can never seem to manage to do the same. _

_ People have told him that he has made a remarkable turnaround on his own accord, that he alone has made the commitment to change his life, that he has finally worked hard enough to be standing here with the press cameras flashing relentlessly into his eyes and a state championship trophy clutched firmly between his fingers, reminiscent of Lima High School of Correctional Education's first state championship victory ever, but he would forever know this to be the furthest thing from the truth possible. _

_It was Rachel that had gotten him here… It always has been._

_His sister was a modest girl; it was a trait that she was always so praised for, but characteristic of her personality, it was the side of herself that she denies the most…_

_ People have often expressed to her that she has the personality of a cancer survivor – whatever that means – that she doesn't let the world bring her down, that she is confident, she believes in people, she simply doesn't allow the worst possible scenario to faze her because she has already travelled to hell and back once before…_

_Everything else seems like a piece of cake. _

_She has never actually said so, but Noah is more than certain that such classification tended to actually offend her, and in all honesty, Noah can't blame her…_

_ Rachel's illness was a part of her past; a past that she can barely so much as remember belonging to… She doesn't want to be seen as that kid who had been sick once before, she wants to be seen as that kid with ambition, passion, a heart so full of love that it's positively bursting at the seams…_

_Rachel Corcoran wants to be identified as nothing more than a twelve year old girl who truly believes that she can fly… and very well might._

"_I'm so proud of you, Noah!" _

_ Her first words upon their meeting within the stands of Paul Brown Stadium, located directly inside of the heart of Cincinnati are predictable; she gives herself absolutely no credit for his victory as she throws her arms around her brother's neck, despite the fact that he's still in full uniform and her extra body weight applies a painful amount of pressure against his lumbering shoulder pads…_

_ He ignores the pain, instead, reciprocating her actions, wrapping his arms across her upper back and squeezing as hard as he possibly can without hurting her, allowing his motions to linger before he releases her back down against her own two feet._

_ "I am too, Noah," His mother relays a similar sense of pride as his sister had done, but her tone is much softer, it possesses a much deeper meaning as she wraps her son, towering in height above her, comfortably into her chest… He is certain that she is just as shocked as he is of the transformation that he has managed in just under a month…_

_In fact, the only person it seems that isn't completely mystified by all of this is Rachel…_

_He has remained sober for just under a month now; completely drug free, and save for a handful of beers at his football parties, clear of all alcohol as well…_

_ Following his arrest in the park that had immediately correlated with Rachel's hospitalization but a handful of months ago now, he has managed to avoid trouble like the plague, his probation officer even citing just how pleased he's been with the track that Noah has been heading down following a years-long streak of endlessly poor behavior._

_ While the first couple of weeks at his new school had been plagued with bad crowds, endless partying and more fights than he could have possibly counted, Noah has since managed to weasel his way out of Richie DeSavino's hopeless band of goons, all determined to go nowhere with their lives, and although it had been far from easy, he's retained his distance… _

_ The first couple of days following his separating himself from what was easily one of the most feared gangs at Lima High School of Correctional Education had been plagued with the necessity of him constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting to be jumped, and despite his wary eyes, it had happened, and it had happened frequently…_

_ He was conditioned to be terrified of going back to school; terrified of being jumped by five or six guys at once, all beating the living crap out of him before leaving him a bloody pulp against the side of the school…_

_ His mother had gotten suspicious of his injuries with a relative quickness upon his coming home daily littered in bruises… After all, there was only so much that he could blame on football._

_ He had pleaded with Shelby not to intervene, tried to allow her to understand that in a school like his, her storming in there would do nothing other than simply make matters worse, and eventually, Shelby had left Noah with an ultimatum; either he goes to the principal, or she does… _

_He never did._

_Being classified as a narc in his high school was even worse than the torture that he was experiencing already… But luckily for him, relief had come quickly, and it had come in the form of his teammates…_

_ Apparently, single handedly guiding your underdog of a football team into the payoffs was one of the best things that one could possibly do in order to gain a positive reputation that came hand-in-hand with around the clock bodily protection… after all, nobody wanted the teams star running back injured before states. _

_ He isn't certain what his teammates had done; and the more he had thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he didn't want to know, but whatever had happened the day that the football team had confronted Richie DeSavino and his gang, the group hadn't bothered Noah since._

_He chooses not to go out the night of their championship victory so that while the rest of his teammates bask in a pool of celebratory alcohol and double shots taken from their conveniently-sized championship trophy, he returns to the one place that he would rather be more than any other; home. _

_ He wakes up relieved, refreshed the next morning, his cell phone littered with a variety of drunk texts and his bedroom window wide open; the distinct outline of a body laying outside on the roof registering inside of his eyes…_

_ Noah shoots upwards and out of his bed with more abruptness than what he can ever remember in ever waking up early on a Sunday morning before…_

_ In his haze of sleep, his first suspicion is burglary; he instinctively grabs for the aluminum baseball bat that he always keeps in the far corner of his room, clutching it firmly between his palms, muscles tense and prepared to strike at a moment's notice as he walks on his tiptoes towards the still figure before him…_

_ The window is wide open, a soft breeze filtering through, washing against his skin so that a soft layer of goose bumps layers across it despite the heat of adrenaline that prevents him from actually feeling the cold… _

_ He poises the aluminum weapon high above his head, fully prepared to strike as he lunges forward, projecting his upper body through the open window with a bang that causes both himself, as well as the figure resting against the rooftop to jump, the small body slipping slightly against the shingles, nearly plummeting off of the second story rooftop and onto the ground below…_

_ "Rachel…" Noah breathes, his heart pounding with the realization that he had been inches away from bludgeoning his sister, "What the hell are you doing out here?" _

_ "Thinking," She shrugs, her hand clutching at her racing heart as it recovers from the shock of being nearly sent flying from the roof…_

_ "Thinking?" Noah responds brashly to this perceived crazy notion, discarding the baseball bat carelessly against his bedroom floor before launching himself against the windowsill, climbing feet first against the slightly slanted rooftop where he sits besides his sister, bringing his knees upwards and against his chest, wrapping his muscular arms around his legs in an effort to capture some of his body heat, now filtering rapidly from his pores now that his adrenaline rush has begun wearing thin. _

_ "You said that the roof was the best place to think, didn't you?" She smiles smugly towards the notion that in the long run, this had been his idea all along…_

_ "You listen to me too much," Noah smiles, but at the same time, he's kind of serious whilst expressing the idea that the extent by which Rachel looks up to him frightens him. "Just see where that gets you, huh?"_

_ "Mom got an interesting phone call this morning…" Rachel is mysteriously vague as she changes the subject in abruptly and in a manner that has Noah eyeing her with the acknowledgment that whatever it was that she was trying to tell him, it had something to do with him…_

_ "What were you doing, eavesdropping?" He accuses playfully in a manner that indicates that she should explain herself._

_ "No," Rachel rolls her eyes, her insistency upon the manner pronounced, "I was the only one up, I answered the phone… Mom wasn't too pleased when I woke her up at nine o'clock this morning, but I think that I made up for it when I told her that Ken Tanaka was on the phone…"_

_ "Coach Tanaka?" Noah's body perks in response to the name, hopes of potential building up inside of him before he has the opportunity to control it… He believes that he knows exactly what this is about, of course, he is much too afraid to express it aloud, in an effort to avoid disappointment just in case it wasn't true. "What did he want?"_

_ "He wants to have a meeting with you, mom and Principal Figgins…" Noah's heart is swelling with every word that Rachel is speaking; he swears to it, that the anticipation alone makes him positively stop breathing. "He wants you back, Noah; he wants you to play football for William McKinley at the start of your sophomore year." _

_ Noah dwells in his silence for but a handful of moments, unsure of exactly how it is that he should be responding to this news… He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry, whether to believe her, or to convince himself that she is lying, just to make it easier on himself should the development fall through…_

_ "You're not shitting with me, are you Rach?" He asks her although he knows that she would never do that, knows that Rachel was the only person in the entirety of this world who wasn't willing to mess with him to that extent… But he asks anyway, just because his life has been met with too much disappointment not to._

_ "Language Noah," She scolds through an eye roll although the tips of her lips tilt upwards slightly as she speaks. "But no, I'm not." _

_Noah laughs audibly; a short, curt sound that originates directly against the base of his throat, vibrating upwards so that it echoes down the entirety of the length of his block, or so it seems…_

_ His heart is swelling with good fortune for what seems to be the first time in the entirety of his life so that suddenly, he doesn't know how to react to it other than to sit there with that dopey grin spayed across his face, watching wide-eyed as the entire town seems to transform all around him; the sun growing warmer, the colors more vivid…_

_ "You've done good Rachel…" He sighs after several silent minutes, trying to come up with the appropriate means by which he could thank her, not truly knowing what else it is that he could say or do. "You're always believing in me, you know… not like everybody else. One day I'll return the favor, I promise…"_

_ "Eh, don't worry about it Noah, I'll take care of you…" Rachel and Noah perform an abrupt role reversal as Rachel shrugs casually, sounding remarkably like Noah in this moment, channeling her brother as she reaches upwards in an effort to get her arm around his shoulder although he is so impossibly taller than she is, that even when they're sitting, it's still a difficult action to complete. "Don't worry Noah, whenever you need me; just call my name, okay? I promise…. I'll be there."_

* * *

><p>"Rachel?"<p>

He is so familiar with the hospital's interior lay out, even years after the building had ceased being like a second home to the boy, that it doesn't take him very long to locate the roof's access point…

He's at the prime of his physical condition, but this doesn't stop him from being barely able to breathe as he rounds the crest of the sixteenth flight of stairs leading outwards to the deck of Lima Memorial's main building, ignoring the do not enter sign plastered across the slightly ajar door leading outwards and onto the rooftop before barreling forward…

He only briefly wonders whether Rachel has anything to do with the door's already being open… He has a briefly humorous image of his sister – of all people – picking the lock when all thoughts are erased suddenly from his mind other than one; the idea that his sister is currently sitting atop the stone ledge of a sixteen story rooftop, back pressed against a brick pillar, knees pressed against her chest as she looks downwards across the city below..

Lima, Ohio was quiet in its Sunday afternoon din… or maybe it was simply that they were just so high up that Noah couldn't see the commotion below, he couldn't tell…

He approaches Rachel slowly… She isn't exactly teetering off of the building's edge, but still, she's just a little bit too close to the ledge for him to feel comfortable with sneaking up on her.

He wonders what it is that's going through her mind at the moment; if she realizes how crazy she looks sitting here in nothing but a hospital gown, her IV dangling worthlessly on the ground at her feet, completely devoid of all gravitational control so that the medication that's supposed to be keeping her healthy doesn't even get to her veins…

He knows that she must know this, but he also knows that her mind must be all over the place right now… He wasn't going to question her intentions, not now, not like everybody else would have…

That's why he had known why it had been so important that he found her before anybody else had.

"You can find me anywhere, can't you?" Rachel laughs although the gesture never actually reaches her face as she tries desperately to avoid direct eye contact… Noah finds himself impressed with her ability to sense his mere presence without even looking towards him, glad that there's a connection between the two deep enough to allow her to know that this can be nobody else other than him.

"You make it easy…" He tells her, although he finds himself embarrassed as his voice cracks slightly, "You never were good at hide and seek."

She's silent, and he moves cautiously to sit beside her, curling his legs Indian style as he props himself against the pillar directly across from her own… When she makes no motion to indicate for him to leave her, he relaxes, making himself comfortable where he sit…

"What are you doing out here, Rachel?" He asks fruitlessly; he knows that he's not going to get a straight answer from her, not without his forcing it.

"I just needed some time to myself, that's all…" She sighs deeply, and Noah nods; he can understand this. He doesn't know exactly how she feels; recovering from being hand delivered a potential death sentence; he has been lucky in that aspect, but at the same time, he knows what it's like to be looking for answers, he just wonders what she's trying to find all the way up here… With a pang, he realizes that it might just be something much deeper than he's originally thought…

He recalls her words, spoken to him seemingly so long ago now and he tries to remember that time, tries to remember that girl that he was talking to or that boy that she was addressing, but it's difficult… So much has changed; so much in those past three years, and so much in these past several hours…

"_You said that the roof was the best place to think, didn't you?"_

"You weren't thinking about… about…" He can't get the words out of his mouth, the thought too terrible to so much as comprehend, but he has to ask; he has to make sure.

"Jumping?" Rachel asks, finishing his sentence for him with a laugh, "God Noah, no, of course not."

"Okay…" Noah breathes a steep sigh of relief, because as much as he didn't want to believe his sister capable of such actions, he has already received too many uncertainties in his life today not to make absolutely certain. "But you might as well be, you know…" Rachel eyes him confusedly, "Coming up here in the cold with no damn immune system to protect you… Not wanting to do chemotherapy…"

Rachel and Noah's eyes lock quickly, and this time, neither turns from the other's gaze for several seconds as they evaluate each other's intentions, their words, their honesty seeping through one's pores for the sake of the other…

There wasn't a relationship in this world blunter than that of a sibling's

"You don't understand," Her voice is starkly different as she lowers her eyes away from Noah's in an effort to keep herself strategically, emotionally distanced.

"I remember more about the first time that this happened than you do, Rach… You were only four years old, you know…" His voice is lingering with the hint of a joke, his mouth upturning as he attempts to ease Rachel's pain by making her laugh… An attempt that he can tell is met with extremely limited success.

"How can you be joking around right now, Noah?" She is not amused, and she makes this fact clear immediately.

"I compensate with humor, Rae," Noah smirks simply, just to prove his point, "So from now on, every time all you wanna do is cry, I'm gonna make you laugh, deal?"

"What if that doesn't work?" She's relentless in her depression; the only thing that she can see right now is the bad, and Noah tries to understand this, but he just can't imagine what it must be like to be sitting directly opposite him, facing your own mortality, lingering on a diagnosis that leaves you wondering whether or not you're going to still be alive in a year… in a month… in a day.

He is physically so close to her, that he can reach out and touch her, but at the same time, the distance currently between them is immeasurable in its infiniteness.

"Then we'll wait," She's wiping a tear quickly from her eye, but at the same time, there's a hint of a smile glistening in her eyes, appreciative towards her brother, "I know that it's gonna be hard, but we'll wait, and we'll be strong… Either way, Rachel, I'm gonna be there for you… But can I ask you something?"

She nods slowly, wiping her hair gently behind her ear as the wind blows it precariously into her face. Her eyes tilt upwards slightly, but still, the angle doesn't quite allow hers to match his.

"Why don't you want to do chemotherapy?"

"I'm not afraid to die, Noah…" This isn't exactly the answer that he's expecting, and it takes him so off guard, that he can come up with nothing more than silence in his response…

"I am," His inner subconscious releases his most secretive of feelings in his confusion before he so much as has the opportunity to control them… He's unsure of how else to express onto Rachel that if she goes, he is certain that he would want her to take him with her… He just doesn't want to be alone, that's all.

"You'll be fine on your own, Noah," She reads his mind, perceives his brief, two-worded sentence just as he had intended upon it meaning.

"Yeah… but that doesn't mean that I want to have to." Rachel sighs heavily, and Noah can see the emotion inside of her eyes; he wasn't making this any easier for either of them.

"Why would I fight again?" She asks honestly, and Noah can't tell whether or not her question is meant to be rhetorical… He perceives it as being a legitimate inquiry, because the idea of anything otherwise terrifies him. "Do I hide the fact that I've already given up? I don't want to do this again, Noah… You don't know what it's like… you don't know how it feels."

His head is swirling with everything that Rachel is saying to him… She is absolutely right, and the idea alone kills him; he has no idea what this feeling is like, none of them do… She has survived her trip to hell once before already, so was it selfish of them to be asking her to pack her bags all over again?

He considers the closest experience that he has to Rachel's fight… In football, his coach would always tell him – at the peak of his physical exhaustion, the paramount of his insistencies towards the idea that he couldn't go on any longer – to get up and to keep trying… He isn't sure how to relate his football performance with his sister's upcoming battle against cancer, but it was a start, right?

"Don't," Noah tells her bluntly, "Don't go giving up now, not when you have everything you could ever dream of… Don't make my mistakes, Rachel… you should know better than that."

For but a brief instant, Noah considers his perception of death, of how much it has changed since when he had been younger, since things had been so much simpler… He wishes that it was still as easy to calm his nerves as his mother telling him that when you die, you simply went to heaven and lived in harmony for the rest of eternity, or as easy as Finn Hudson convincing him that only adults possessed the capacity of death, that children were downright death-proof…

But he doesn't believe in that kind of thing anymore; neither God, nor invincibility… One look into his little sister's eyes could prove that much in its entirety.

"You know that if it were up to me I'd fast forward through the worse of this all, right?" He tells her when she chooses not to respond to his previous comments, "What happened to being a star, Rachel? What happened to performing arts school, to New York, to Broadway?"

"That's all gone now, Noah," She finally admits, speaking of her dying dreams in a voice that is barely above a whisper, her eyes glazed with tears as her eyes scan back down and across the city below.

"No… I know you Rachel," When he tells her this, he emphasizes it, making sure that she knows that it's the truth, "Which is why I know that it takes a lot more for a dream like that to die…"

"I can't stop thinking about dad," Rachel breathes, and Noah sighs at the unexpected mention of the man, but still, he can't help to relish against his sister's selflessness… Leave it up to her to be so strongly considering a man that had single-handedly ruined both of their lives on a day that she should be thinking about nobody other than herself, "I don't want what happened with dad to happen to us again, Noah…"

"It won't," Noah speaks without hesitation, shaking his head firmly, simply to emphasize his point.

"You don't know that," Rachel smiles, but it's not like that by which displays across her face when she truly smiles; this time, it is sad, hopeless, it makes his heart positively ache. "It's my fault that he ran off and had an affair… it's my fault that he's dead."

"Don't say that, Rachel," Noah begs his sister to see reason, to understand that the outcome of their father's life had been a result of nothing more than Hiram's own numerous faults… But Noah can't help but to wonder how long Rachel has been hoarding his guilt, this pain… probably since Hiram had died, he thinks, when she was no older than four… "You know that it's not true."

"You have to take care of mom for me." She ignores his comment, instead, once more switching directions so that Noah can't help but to wonder where her mind is. "Please Noah, you have to promise."

"Of course I'll take care of mom." He answers carelessly, ensuring the safety of the one remaining parent that they had left… He doesn't recognize the deeper meaning behind his sister's request; not yet, anyway.

"Please Noah," She begs, the tears far too close to falling from her eyes for his liking, "You have to promise…"

Noah pauses… there are a million things that he would like to tell her right now, but he can't seem to pinpoint just one… He wants to beg her to hold on, he wants to make her promise that she will put up a fight… Most importantly, he wants to tell her that as much as he wants to save her at this moment, he isn't so sure that she realizes just how much he needs her to save him too.

"I promise."

"I'm gonna do it, you know…" She sighs, finally satisfied to move on now that she knows that her deepest fears regarding having somebody to look after their mother should she go have been addressed, "Chemo, I mean… I'm gonna do it… But I can't do it without you here with me, okay?"

"Well lucky for you, I'm not going anywhere." His smile is wider than he can remember it being for a long while, the idea that Rachel isn't going to be willing to go down without a fight flooding him with relief although deep down, he is certain that Rachel was never truly considering going down looking to begin with.

"Good…" She leans forwards, shifting closer towards him as he opens up his arms to her, allowing her to fall into his muscular chest where he wraps her close, supporting his arms tightly across her upper back.

She burrows deeper inside of his arms, making herself comfortable as he squeezes his hand against her shoulder with a hint of additional strength to allow her to recognize that finally, amidst all of the pandemonium and the perceived chaos, she will know that they have finally managed to locate a hint of safety.

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><p><strong>Jester9984<strong>** – Aww, I'm glad that you enjoyed but I'm sorry to have made you tear up! Thanks for the review!**

**Beaner008**** – Wow, thank you for your beautifully kind words as always… Noah is going to be self appointing himself the task to deliver the news to the rest of the glee club within the next few chapters so things are definitely going to get intense. **

**NinjaGleek21**** – Ooo, yay! Thanks for the cookie, it's appreciated. Sorry for leaving you hanging!**

**Readerforlife**** – Yay, good I'm glad, I felt kind of bad for slacking lately, real life has been getting in the way, sometimes I wish I could just do this full time hahaha. **

**Beckg77**** – Yay! Thank you so much, I am flattered!**

**Ballerina03**** – Oh yay, I'm glad you're back, I missed your reviews hahaha! How was your trip? Sorry to have only given you two chapters while you were away, procrastinating against all of the work I have to do before graduation is finally starting to catch up with me :/ Anyways, thanks for all your beautiful words, I'm glad you're enjoying the characters because I'm gonna try to sneak a little bit more of the rest of the glee club in there in the next couple of chapters so we'll see how that goes. Thank you!**

**Bay Girl**** – Ahh, sorry for the delay! I've had a few real-life issues taking up all of my time lately, but thank you for the review and all of your nice words. It's very much so appreciated!**


	21. Hiram Corcoran February 2001

**So I know that everybody is looking for a present day chapter, but I'm trying to start laying out Hiram's story a little more (we will learn what happened to him soon, I promise) because the family's past with Hiram is going to start coming back to haunt them pretty soon, especially Noah… Also, I needed a bit of a platform to introduce Shelby's family and this seemed like a good opportunity to start. **

**I am absolutely overwhelmed by absolutely every ounce of feedback that I've received from everybody, I don't even have words to tell you how much it means so thank you so much! You're all amazing. Shelby is up next!**

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><p><strong>Hiram Corcoran<strong> – February 2001_  
><em>

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><p>Hiram Corcoran is a smart man.<p>

He had graduated valedictorian of his high school, choosing to escape the clutches of his godforsaken family alongside the pressures of growing up a gay man in the throes of the Deep South…

He had not only survived living in New York City, but had put his notoriously brutal neighborhood in a stranglehold while simultaneously managing to capture the attention of the prettiest girl on Broadway.

He had graduated from nursing school a year early with honors, had successfully financed his Upper East Side apartment, raised two beautiful children and climbed to the top of Lima Memorial's nursing program at an untold speed…

So yes, Hiram Corcoran considers himself to be a smart man, but still, for the life of him, he can't bring himself to understand the concept of just how time can move both so quickly, and so slow at the same time…

Just over forty eight hours ago now, Hiram Corcoran had been no more than a proud father…

At a mere six years of age, his son had just mastered the batting cages, slugging baseballs being hurled at him faster than a moving vehicle while the rest of his age group still struggled with the notion of tee ball…His daughter had just been sent home to recover from the completion of yet another round of chemotherapy, leaving her but one step closer to the end, one step closer to beating cancer…

Never before has he realized how easy it is to cram a lifetime into a mere forty eight hours…

In the shortest, yet somehow, also the longest, two days of his entire life, Hiram Corcoran has transformed from a smart man, from a proud father into a fool, into a pit of grief alongside the difficult understanding that his four year old daughter, his child, his _baby_ was showing no progress in her recovery but instead, was only slipping further and further away with each treacherously paced passing second.

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><p><em>She had gone into cardiac arrest.<em>

_Rachel had gone into cardiac arrest and she had been technically dead for just over eight minutes… Hiram didn't have to be a registered nurse to know that this was not good. _

_ He had known the second that the alarms had begun to blare, the instant that the medical staff had begun rushing in, as soon as he and his wife had been forcibly removed from the room… But whether it simply be all of his medical training working against him in his insistence that there was no logical explanation towards why his four year old daughter was dying,, or whether it simply was him refusing to believe that it was true, the second that he had seen Dr. McCarthy approach him with a somber look and a heavy heart displayed blatantly, clear across his face, Hiram couldn't help but to wish that somebody would simply wake him from what was clearly a terrible nightmare_

_There simply was no other possible explanation._

"_Good, here comes Shelby…" The doctor pauses in the midst of his description towards his perceived best possible outcome for his daughter, his guidelines towards where they go from here, and although Hiram knows that Shelby has just as much of a right to hear this as he does, if not more so, Hiram can't help but to wish that he wouldn't pause, that he wouldn't wait, that he would simply tear the Bandaid off of the fresh wound, tell him everything that he wants to know, everything that he needs to know, everything that he knows that this doctor can't possibly predict…. _

_ Suddenly, Hiram wants nothing more than to grab onto Dr. McCarthy's shoulders, to shake the life straight out of the man while simultaneously insisting he go back to medical school until he's granted the capacity to magically pass along life to even the most hopeless of cases, but he knows that this will do more harm than good…_

_He remains silent._

"_Hiram…" The father does not even realize that there are tears in his eyes until Shelby is rushing the last several paces towards him, dragging their son by the hand like a ragdoll behind her, "Hiram, what is it? What happened?"_

"_They want to take Rachel off of life support."_

"_I'm sorry, what?" Shelby's reaction is expected… it is nearly identical to what his own had been mere moments earlier… She doesn't believe him, much like he hadn't believed the doctor upon his revelation that there were no more plans in the course of Rachel's treatment, that there were no more options… that they were at the end._

_ Her voice is desperate; she is staring at Hiram with wide, pleading eyes in an effort to convince him to tell her that she has heard him wrong… He wishes nothing more than to possess the capacity to do so, but when he offers no more than silence, her face grows increasingly anxious; her features sinking, her eyes widening as they glisten with tears…_

_ The two parents connect in their expression of sorrow, and somehow, through the connection that makes the world appear to be no more than him and her, he manages to hear the small squeal of pain as it escapes from their son's mouth, his hand clamped impossibly about Shelby's subconsciously tightening one._

_ "Shelby… What about Noah?" Hiram breaks their brief connection, forcing himself to be reminded of the idea that Rachel was not the only child that they had to consider at the moment… They needed to speak with Rachel's doctor, this much is certain but Hiram does not want his son present for when inevitably, his parents lost what little cool that they still have._

_ He takes care of Noah easily, taking over in the task that Shelby can't seem to bring herself to do in the moment, dropping the boy off inside of the room directly adjacent to the small huddle of adults, left alone with his dying sister…_

_ When he walks back out and into the hallway, both Shelby and the doctor are silent… Shelby is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and feet tapping aggressively against the tile floor… She is waiting impatiently for Hiram's return so that she can be offered an explanation towards why Dr. McCarthy has recommended ending their daughter's life, but at the same time, Hiram can tell that she isn't entirely certain that she wants the answers… much like him. _

_ "Shelby… Hiram…" The doctor moves slowly, judging the best means by which to approach this conversation, undoubtedly the hardest that the two parents have ever had to face… "I know that this is something that can't possibly come easily to you."_

_ "You're asking us to give up on our child…" Shelby spits harshly… Hiram has never heard this tone coming from his wife before; but then again, nobody has ever threatened the viability of her children before either and if anything was certain of Shelby, Hiram knows that it is her willingness to do absolutely anything to protect her children… "You're asking us to kill her."_

_ "I assure you, Mrs. Corcoran that that is not what we are asking you to do." The doctor resorts to formalities; years of experience in the practice of pediatric oncology telling him that this is a necessary feat when testy parents allow their emotions to override the rational thought process necessary upon facing the prospect of a dying child. "This is an option that I am presenting you with in an effort to allow you to consider what might be the most comfortable means by which to allow Rachel to… to pass."_

_ "Why are you giving up on her?" Shelby accuses; she has tears dripping from the corners of her eyes although her voice remains strong, her expression stony, "You're supposed to be her doctor, you're supposed to be the one that is in charge of saving her, not killing her!" _

_ Shelby is growing irrational, Hiram in opposite fashion, silenced in his grief… But despite having just been ripped apart by a grieving mother, Dr. McCarthy retains his ground, he takes everything that Shelby has to offer him simply because he understands that she needs an outlet right now, and he is simply her best option at the moment._

_ "I assure you, Mrs. Corcoran, giving up on Rachel is the absolute last thing that anybody wants to do… But we are at a stage in the course of the progression of Rachel's condition where we need to start facing reality…" _

_ The nurse inside of Hiram is screaming at him to think scientifically, to think rationally… He is trying desperately to understand the implications of Rachel's cardiac arrest… brain death, the gradual progression of organ failure, the understanding that his daughter's recovery was no longer simply unlikely, but now scientifically impossible… But the overpowering father inside of him can't help but to continue praying for a miracle… _

_ "The most recent EEG that we performed on Rachel's brain following her cardiac arrest has shown that there is minimal brain activity… Her vitals have been plummeting at an alarming rate, and this morning, her nurse discovered blood in her urine bag…" Hiram's heart plummets into his stomach; Shelby, who can't possibly understand these implications, somehow manages to retain a thread of hope… for now. "It's difficult to understand Shelby, I know that you feel as if you're writing Rachel off which is why I'm not asking you to make a decision right away… But while Rachel's progress appeared poor when she was initially brought into the emergency room the other day… now, they're only declining… Shelby, keeping Rachel on life support, continuing to treat an infection that's only getting worse… it's only prolonging the inevitable." _

_ Hiram keeps his eyes on Shelby the entire time… He can tell by the gradual progression of her declining face that she is beginning to understand… _

"_What we are truly trying to ask you to do right now is to prepare for the worst."_

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><p>He has spoken these exact words to countless families… The truth is that Hiram Corcoran had delivered a death sentence to more parents, spouses, siblings and friends than he could ever possible count.<p>

Now, he's finding himself seriously reconsidering his choices, because now, he truly understands the gripping pain that these words can deliver, just how far they will burrow into your hurt, squeezing the organ into a brutal stronghold, refusing to ever let go in its entirety…

He has yet to find it inside of himself to face Shelby, and in a mutual understanding, she too has been avoiding him at all costs; each parent relishing in the acknowledgment that to face each other, would mean to have to face the inevitable conversation…

_Should we take our four year old daughter off of life support?_

He has been careful in his avoidance of Rachel's hospital room with the exception of times that he knows will be guaranteed that Shelby will not be inside… Of course, with the arrival of her extended family, avoidance was steadily growing harder and harder to maintain…

He has been standing within the hallway that leads directly towards his daughter for well over fifteen minutes now; remaining generally unnoticed by the miniscule population of the pediatric ICU save for a handful of nurses, all of whom walk directly past him in their travels, shooting him quick, sympathetic glances that he tries desperately to ignore every time…

His face is pressed firmly against the large window that faces directly inwards towards his lifeless daughter; his eyes refusing to leave her once alongside the acknowledgment that this precious life is currently nestled precariously inside of his loosely cupped hands…

His daughter is relying on him to make the right decision, but for the life of him, Hiram Corcoran cannot even begin to understand what the right decision may be.

He considers the possibilities, considers what could possibly come from this choice; whether or not he will ever be able to live with what he's done, whether Rachel will ever forgive him…

He shivers involuntarily against the exposure of the cool hallway, the thin veil of cover offered to him by his scrubs providing him with little to no true protection… He brings his muscular arms upwards to cross over his chest in an effort to initiate at the very least, a sense of protection but he has been waiting for this brutal winter to end for months now, waiting for the warmth of the summer to wash over him, to melt this snow, this pain, and to provide him once more, with that coveted sense of control that he has yet to experience….

That he is starting to believe that he never will…

Suddenly, Hiram cannot be certain why he has even bothered coming into work today to begin with…

His intentions upon waking from a barely sustainable night's sleep was to simply retreat into the ER for an opportunity to escape the burdens offered by intensive care, to retreat into his safe haven, to have a chance to clear his mind…

He doesn't understand why he has ever been so stupid as to have believed that this would actually work, why rotating about the triage center that Shelby had carried their child inside of to die a mere two days ago would help to sustain him in his bid to achieve numbness…

His mind is all over the place, and ultimately, he finds that by being here at all has delivered upon not only him, but his patients as well, more harm than good…

He shifts ever-so-slightly his subconscious representation of grief, and amidst the briefest of motions, manages to lose the access to the perfect visualization that he'd previously held of his daughter through the shield of a glass wall...

Leroy and Crystal Berry shift precariously before their granddaughter's bedside, involuntarily shielding Hiram's access to his daughter without so much as realizing that he is standing directly behind them…

Leroy Berry retains a stony stiffness; his back is straight as an hour, exposing his impressive, full height… Years of experience has conditionally trained him to be emotionless…

Leroy is a tall man, dark and brute in his Israeli heritage…

In a near perfect fashion, his son has inherited his father to the exact, while his youngest daughter was entirely composed of her mother with Shelby, in the middle, receiving a genuinely even split…

Shelby has inherited her father's flawless bone structure, thankfully passed along to their own children in its fight for dominance… She has received Leroy's skin tone, his soft, understanding eyes…

But much more pointedly than even physical appearance can suggest, Shelby has her father's thick skin, his strict, no-bullshit policies, his motivation, his ambition, his love…

But still, Shelby is known for her emotions; something that she has picked up somewhere along the lines from her notoriously sensitive mother…

As it is, Hiram can tell that Crystal Berry's shoulders are heaving beneath the burden of tears even with her back turned towards him…

From behind, Shelby is a clone of her mother with her same tiny figure and long, dark hair… Hiram can almost mistake her for his wife from behind, had Shelby not been sitting in the corner of the room, rocking gently from inside of her chair, staring straight ahead and unblinking, an empty expression written across her equally blank face; eyes wide and devoid of all emotion now that all of her tears, it seemed, have been drained from her eyes.

He wonders what Shelby's parents are saying to the small child before them, whether Crystal has been left sobbing over desperate prayers or final goodbyes… Hiram is assuming the latter, Leroy and Crystal Berry's arrival late last night, after all, had not come with the warmest of receptions…

Hiram knows that their intentions were meant to be nothing but well, but their intentions had not made things any easier when Leroy had cornered the already grieving parents in an effort to inform them not to worry themselves over Rachel's funeral arrangements… that him and his wife would be taking care of it…

It had struck a chord deep within the very pit of Hiram's every organ, and although a part of him was grateful that this man was willing to take charge of an event that Hiram certainly did not possess the capacity to stress over himself, the mental image that he'd received of his in-laws picking out an impossibly miniaturized coffin for his four year old had made the idea that in a matter of a few days' time, he could be at his daughter's funeral all too real.

Hiram can recall the rage that had flustered beneath his skin; anger seeping from the center of chest, straight inside of his skull… At the time he had wanted to say something, he had wanted desperately to inform Leroy Berry that this would not be necessary, but Shelby had beaten him to it, standing on the very tips of her toes in an effort to match her father's impossibly taller frame, and with tears in her eyes, shouting in the center of a crowded airport lobby, Shelby had told the entirety of Lima International Airport exactly how it was that she was coping, how much she was truly hurting…

_"I will not write my daughter off!"_ Shelby's screams had travelled across the crowded airport, silencing its patrons to a general assortment of stares that flustered strangers had displaced immediately, scurrying away from the distraught mother as if afraid that her grief would rub off upon them… _"I am not going to say goodbye to her dad, do you hear me? Rachel is going to be the one that buries me!"_

Shelby had not been particularly pleased with her parents for the majority of their first night in Lima, but it appears as though they have since separated personal feelings for the sake of Rachel, seeing as how Crystal had since reached out to clutch onto Shelby's hand, her free appendage resting gingerly against Rachel's shoulder to create a miniature chain; a silent effort to pass along some of their expendable energy onto the child so desperate for a little extra.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" He turns abruptly at the sound of the voice… Shelby's younger sister is standing before him, impressively balancing two trays full of coffee – no doubt for the small crowd inside – between her outstretched hands.

"Here, I got you one too…" She removes a single cup in a manner that quickly reminds Hiram that his sister-in-law is paying for law school through waitressing at three different restaurants, "I figured it would only be a matter of time before you came back."

Hiram can only nod towards her general direction graciously… He sips at the coffee but still, barely registers the beverage entering into his system. Hiram despises the taste of coffee, he always had… People used to always tease him for it, asking him how it is he manages being an emergency room nurse and a father of two little ones without a drop of caffeine…

"Shelby told me what my father said to you guys yesterday…" Krista slips into conversation with a trite smoothness about her that reminds Hiram just how different Shelby and her sister truly are… Shelby has her father's awkward-by-nature personality; she can rarely strike up conversation, or identify the right thing to say in conversation… Krista, on the other hand, has her mother's social intellect… Hiram can only guess this to be the reason that Krista has been slated to become the lawyer of the family. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Hiram's eyes glance subconsciously back towards where Leroy Berry sits, tucked tightly between his own wife and daughter, his eyes lingering intently against Rachel although she never moves once. "He's right."

"Well my dad isn't exactly known for his sensitivity…" She gives a curt laugh that Hiram can tell is not meant to indicate that she'd meant her words to be funny. "I think that my mother might have torn him a new one last night…"

Hiram doesn't respond, although in the back of his mind, he does perceive a slightly humorous image of Crystal Berry; a solid foot shorter than her gigantic, Israeli war veteran of a husband, screaming at the man until he is left cowering…

"This isn't fair…" Krista breaks the silence easily, her head shaking gently back and forth as she speaks… Hiram can't tell whether she's actually talking to him, or if she's talking to herself… Who knows, maybe it was a little bit of both, "It's not fair to Rachel, or to Noah… or to you and Shelby… So now, don't get upset with me, but I know that the two of you have about a million different things on your mind right now, so I asked Shelby if it was okay for me to move in with you guys for a little while… I can take care of the house, keep Noah occupied, keep you guys occupied… I mean, only until things start to settle down."

Krista transitions easily into her suggestion and Hiram is left merely shooting her a look of surprised skepticism… It's not as if he's entirely opposed to the idea; Krista Berry idolizes her older sister, it was half of the reason that she'd decided to move from New Jersey to Akron for law school to begin with… The only reason that he is second guessing the offer is merely based on the concern of anybody putting their lives on hold strictly for his family… A freshman at Ohio State Law School, Krista had her entire life still ahead of her… she couldn't throw that away, not now, not for them.

"Don't worry," She must have seen the look in her brother-in-law's eyes, because she assures him quickly, "Shelby said the same exact thing that you're thinking… But still, Akron isn't too far away, okay… If you ever need anything, I mean."

He nods. The truth is, Akron _is_ rather far away; a four hour journey was a lifetime in a precarious situation where time meant absolutely everything.

"Yeah…" Hiram sighs gently; he wants absolutely nothing more than to fade through the wall in this moment… It wasn't that he didn't like Shelby's family, on the contrary, he saw them as a more appetizing replacement for his own deadbeat relatives, and Krista was probably the favorite of all of his in-laws… He was simply at a point in time where he simply would have preferred to be alone. "Listen, I have to get back to work…" Hiram sighs, making an immediate move to turn away from Krista.

"Okay…" She doesn't make any attempt to stop him, but her eyes are looking questioningly towards him, as if to force him to consider the idea that going back to his job of saving others when he can't even save himself at the moment may not be for the best… "But you know, Hiram… I don't' think that anybody would object to you taking some time off… for yourself, I mean…"

"I appreciate it, Krista, really I do…" His words are empty and he knows that Shelby's sister is a sharp girl; she will be able to pick up on his hollow words in a heartbeat… Right now, he's simply relying on the notion that she won't mention this fact. "I just need to keep my mind off of things for right now."

She provides him with a short nod, but her eyes glisten with concern as Hiram's eyes glisten back towards the interior of Rachel's room briefly, one last time; the light catching his eyes in such a manner that the only thing that he can truly see is his own decrepit reflection staring back at him through the smooth glass window.

In the hectic series of events that has followed Rachel's admittance into intensive care, Hiram has simply not had the time to care for himself…. He has since become so disconnected with reality that he has even begun to ignore his own morose reflection for fear of what he might find.

He rips his eyes away from the last thing that he wants to see at the moment – himself – and retreats down the length of the hallway, back turned and walking away from the only family that he has ever known.

* * *

><p><em>He had hit his son.<em>

_The boy was six years old; he had been a mere muddle of confusion towards the idea of why his father had dragged him into the hospital so late at night, why his parents had been ignoring them, why it was that they couldn't leave, why they couldn't take him home. _

_ There was so much that his son was confused about, understandable considering there was so much that the boy's father was confused about as well… Noah had relied on the only means by which he knew to have something that he didn't understand explained to him; he asked, and when he found that he could not be granted the answers that he so desperately wanted, Noah had grown frustrated, he'd grown snarky._

_So Hiram had hit him._

_Hiram Corcoran had sworn to himself the day that his son was born that he would never, under any circumstances strike his children, that he would never get so impossibly angry with them that the only means by which he could perceive fixing things would be violence… _

_ Hiram Corcoran was not going to grow up to be his own father…_

_But he had._

_Hiram plunges without a light to follow into the hallway beyond the veil of the private waiting room that he has left his stunned wife and wailing son alone inside of, under the impression that he does not need anybody to follow, he just needs somebody to assure him that escaping from this personal hell was actually possible. _

_ He is notorious for retreating at the first sign of danger, Hiram knows this; it was his natural, cowardly response towards a stressor… Why should he choose to stick around anyway, if it was just to watch himself fall even harder?_

_ A brief pang of regret lingers deep within his very bones, travelling straight through his chest towards the idea that he has left Shelby to both wallow in the possibilities of what can be wrong with their daughter while simultaneously having to deal with their hurt, confused son as well as the newly forming bruise in the shape of a handprint that lingers directly against his cheek…_

_ But although this expression does appear in the core of his heart with a significant prominence, its effects are brief; they disappear rapidly… Suddenly, he can no longer bring himself to care._

_Hiram doesn't even recognize where his feet are taking him until he rounds into the familiar hallway straight into the ward that he has since learned to spend more time inside of than within his own home…_

_ "Hiram, we heard about Rachel…" Nurses that he would now consider family offer him their sympathy, forming a single-file line in an effort to offer him a series of embraces that he can only bring himself to return half-assed…_

_ He moves through the small group quickly; there are only so many apologies that he can actually handle before his brain begins to swell painfully with emotion once more… Hiram steps through the oncology ward with a registered swiftness… He's appreciative, but he needs to push forwards for fear of losing his mind in its entirety should he start to slow down…_

"_Hiram…_

_This time, when he hears the soft tone of empathy as it seeps into his ears, he embraces it; it was after all, the only comfort that he now knows, his subconscious has been searching for this entire time. _

_ "I'm so sorry, Hiram…" The grieving father forces himself to take the last several paces forwards, falling into the one set of arms that he has been looking for this entire time; allowing the action to progress as his daughter's nurse wraps him within his muscular arms and holds him close. "Is there anything that I can do?"_

_ "No," Hiram shakes his head firmly against David's chest as the tears that have been welling deep within the very pits of his eyes for hours now finally spill, staining the nurse's light blue scrubs shirt with bold, darkened tear stains…_

_ "Come on," David tugs gently at Hiram's shoulders, pulling him towards an empty hospital room towards his right, closing the door gently behind him in a bid for privacy before he guides the grieving man towards the empty bed decorating the car corner of the room…_

_ "Do you want to talk about it at all?" David asks the older man before him, settling into a seated position at the edge of the bed besides Hiram, wrapping a protective arm about Hiram's shoulder, kneading gently at the man's stiff muscles with gentle, yet firm fingers…_

_ Hiram pauses briefly, he considers his options, weighs them all against all of those that he claims to love, all of those that he has since wronged and he quickly finds that even with his wife and two children currently emblazoned against the prominent forefront of his mind, it still isn't enough to erase all of these feeling… so he chooses to ignore them…_

_ It was him after all, that had chosen to run himself directly into this life… He realizes this every day alongside the reminder that his family was a consistent symbol towards the reminder of how he, at one point in his life, had actually wanted things this way…_

_ But today, he allows emotions to weave out the path of rational thought, and he leans forwards softly and he presses his lips up tenderly against David's own. _

_He can't seem to bring himself to stop crying… Tears are leaking continuously from Hiram's eyes in a manner that leaves the both of their lips lingering with a moist, salty sensation that seemingly holds like superglue between their interlocked skin…_

_But still, amazedly, the only thought that is left lingering on Hiram's mind is simply how relieved he is when David never pulls away._

* * *

><p>He wants nothing more than to stop digging through his past for fear of what he will find beneath the surface of the Earth below, but no matter how hard he tries he can't bring himself to stop…<p>

"Hiram…" He isn't even back inside of the emergency room before his boss is calling him to follow her… She has a neutral expression; the woman with a generally cheerful undertone appearing stony as she eyes him with a carefully concerted seriousness and indicates with a swift motion of her fingers for him to follow her towards her office…

Hiram follows obediently, dragging his feet without speaking so much as a word as he rounds into the small, square office only to find, with a pang of nervousness that there is somebody there waiting for him… The head supervisor of the hospital's nursing staff; an ominous, threatening looking man who Hiram has seen only once when the hospital had been sued by a patient claiming to have been mistreated by the emergency room staff.

"Sit down, Mr. Corcoran…" The simplest of commands sounds threatening and harsh, and Hiram feels his palms growing immediately clammy as he clenches them in his nerves and lowers his shuddering body downwards into the small, plastic chair that overlooks the desk.

"I called you in here this afternoon to inform you that, as you are well aware of, the hospital has been making several cutbacks in an effort to savor our diminishing budget, and that this action has unfortunately, taken a large toll on our nursing staff…" Hiram's heart clenches painfully inside of his chest; he understands immediately, the direction that this conversation is heading towards, and what its consequences very well may be. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Corcoran, but your recent attendance and performance records have indicated a rapid decline that this hospital simply cannot afford at the moment… We are going to have to let you go from your position at this hospital."

Hiram can positively feel the color draining rapidly from his face as he sits stock still, back stiff and eyes wide as he stairs straight ahead towards the man that has just cut him off of the one thing that Hiram had for himself… His safe haven, his saving grace, _his_ hospital…

"You can't do this…" Hiram's voice is soft, barely budging as he expresses his insistencies towards the idea that this all must be one, giant mistake.

"Mr. Corcoran, I understand that this…"

"No, you don't understand actually. You cannot do this." He cuts his former superior off, his tone finally emanating as being much more desperate than he would have preferred, but suddenly, he can't bring himself to truly care as the potential implications of what his being laid off will mean for him, for his family, begins to seep across the every crevice of his brain; the consequences striking him like a brutal slap clear across his face. "My wife is a housewife; our health insurance plan is through the hospital… My four year old has leukemia, she needs that plan, she needs me to have this job."

"I am sorry about your personal dilemmas, Mr. Corcoran, really I am, but this has been a carefully discussed decision with the hospital board. I assure you that no decisions were made carelessly…" He apologizes, but his voice is orchestrated, his words pre-planned with an answer that tells Hiram that every word he has just spoken is nothing more than a blatant lie… Suddenly, he is angrier than what he's ever thought possible; he hates this man before him for his seeming need to play Hiram as a fool while he's already got him pinned down and against the ground. "You will receive a severance package, and…"

"That's not enough!" Hiram is on his feet; his breathing is labored as he pants and hovers above the man that has just singlehandedly destroyed what little lingering hope that he still has left… Suddenly, he understands how it is a man can be brought to procure bodily harm upon another; suddenly he feels as if he can wrap his hands around this man's throat and choke the life clear out of him…

And this idea terrifies him.

He is almost glad when he's escorted from the office by security; a neutral buffer to stop him in his tracks before he has the opportunity to do something that he knows his cooler head would later regret.

He is flanked by two fully-armed hospital security guards… He's a tall man, naturally built and initially looking brute, but his gentle eyes and kind heart have him almost amused towards the idea that he has apparently left the impression that he was planning on committing to drastic action following his abrupt letting go from the hospital that he has given so much to.

Hiram follows his escort complacently; he simply does not have the energy to put up a fight any longer.

He retracts from his guards previously orchestrated plans for him only once, when the men attempt to guide him directly through the front doors, towards his car; away from the hospital, away from the only home that he has come to know, away from the only family that he has left…

He's halfway through the revolving door when he removes himself forcibly from the gentle grasp that the man to his right has on his elbow; and instead of obediently stepping onto the sidewalk directly outside the hospital's main entrance, he takes a detour, allowing the rotating door to make a full revolution that leads him directly inside of the lobby once more, moving abruptly towards the elevators as two uniformed security guards chase after him in a manner that tells Hiram that they are concerned about his intentions…

Maybe he is not the only one that thinks he's going positively crazy after all.

"Excuse me sir, our orders were to direct you from the hospital…" The guard's tone is one that tells Hiram that they are willing to offer a sympathetic politeness only should Hiram be willing to cooperate with them… If he chooses to get difficult, then so be it…

"Well then you can go inform your boss that I will be directing myself to the pediatric intensive care unit to be with my dying four year old." Hiram's words are harsh, his tone burns with so much anger that it stings even his core, but his point is made…

This time, when Hiram makes his motion towards the elevators, nobody tries to stop hm.

He allows the doors to slide closed behind him, leaving him trapped in solitude inside of the small box; a lonesome journey that he quickly considers his savior for eight brief stories…

Hiram's eyes are closed as he leans firmly against the cushioned walls, the elevator humming all around him greeted with the small tug of gravity against his stomach to indicate that his travels have begun.

The tears are lingering threatening but he knows that now is not a time by which he can commit to them; he must hold them inside; he cannot allow his desperately ill daughter, his grieving wife, or his insurmountably confused son to see him cry.

He tries to stop the warm tears from cascading down his face, but he fails with an almost humorous sense of immediateness alongside the understanding that any ambition that he has ever committed to in his entire life has only resulted in a smoldering pit of failure; crashing and burning at the worst possible moment all around both him, and everybody else that he has ever claimed to have loved.

* * *

><p><em>He is no stranger to nerves, but still, never before in the entirety of his life can Hiram Corcoran remember being more nervous than the moment that he chooses to drop to one knee in front of his girlfriend and ask her to marry him. <em>

_ Tears of pure joy swell into her eyes immediately; she's nearly hyperventilating as she frantically nods her head up and down with such urgency that she appears as no more than a mere blur as she grabs Hiram around the shoulders before he so much as has the opportunity to place the ring around her finger and lifts him into the air so that she can latch his lips against her own… Their kiss lingers, behind them; a polite applause bursts amidst the restaurant's inhabitants, all of whom have bared witness to Hiram's public proposal…_

_ "I love you…" Shelby smirks into his lips; she is diminishing into a sensual romantic now that the shock of Hiram's unexpected proposal has begun to deplete into a full understanding towards exactly what this ring means…_

_ "I love you too," Hiram reciprocates, and his face is bright, his teeth shining in his prominent, open-mouthed smile… He can't count the amount of times that he has spoken these exact words to his now-__fiancée, but today he does so with the additional understanding towards the idea that he can never actually commit to them in the manner by which Shelby does every time she speaks them, in the manner that she wants him to, in the manner that she truly deserves._

_ His eyes scan across her flawless form; Shelby Berry is beautiful, she's smart, she's talented and she's undyingly charming… He had realized her perfection from the very second that he had initially laid eyes on her, and through the overwhelmingly pleasing notion that he has, for the first time in the entirety of his life, understood what it meant to truly love and be loved, he had somehow managed to push aside the terrible feelings of guilt digging a trench deep inside of his very heart…_

_He has somehow managed to convince himself that he can be voluntarily willing to start a life with a woman who has unwillingly been dragged into a relationship based upon a lie that was much larger than either of them. _

_They've been dating for barely over a year… He is not prepared for this commitment, and he isn't certain that he ever will be, but in his determination to keep his deepest of secrets buried deep inside of the ground, in his necessity to prove to not only the world, but to himself that he can be normal, that he can grow up, find a real job, get married and have children, he destines not only himself for failure, but also this poor, remarkable woman that he is inadvertently dragging into the ground alongside him._

_ He is well aware of the notion of just how selfish it is for him to claim Shelby for himself, he knows that she can never truly be his; that he can never truly be hers, but for now, he perceives this as a minor obstacle… _

_ Everybody is entitled to their mistakes, but for now, Hiram was going to be young, he was going to listen to that swell inside of his heart that he's expertly learned to convince himself represents true love._

_ He does after all know that he is willing to do absolutely anything for Shelby… He is willing to cross the world and back, name every star, fly straight through every universe that he can find all for her…_

_ Hiram knows that deep inside of his heart, he can never care for Shelby in the manner that she deserves,, but he loves her, truly he does…_

_And this is why he's finding it so impossibly difficult to let her go._

* * *

><p>He is wondering when exactly it was that he has become this man with no way, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that it is more likely that he has always been this way, that he has simply perfected the art of covering it all up until this exact moment…<p>

With his credentials as a husband, as a father, and as a man as a whole suddenly challenged directly before him, he is finally realizing just how empty the days may ultimately leave you, just how cold the night winds can chill you down to your very bones…

Shelby shifts gently from her position inside of his arms, but her eyes never turn away from her daughter… He hasn't told her what had happened yet; he can't, simply because he doesn't know how to…

His wife is enough of a mess already; she doesn't need any more on her plate at the moment.

She turns towards him slowly, her eyes drifting drearily upwards in an effort to latch onto his own so that he feels as though he is literally watching as the years flush rapidly through her face in her sorrow… He wonders if the same could be said about himself… probably.

"Do you remember what Rachel's first words were?" Shelby breaks the silence with the first topic of conversation that she can think to bring up for fear that should she be forced to wallow in her quiet much longer, she would no longer be able to discern between dreams and reality… that she would lose her sanity in its entirety.

"Barbra…" Hiram grins at the mere memory of how Rachel's coveted stuffed rabbit had managed to receive its name after, for the longest of times the only word that their child could repeat on an endless loop was 'Baw-bwa.' Rachel was her mother's daughter that much was for absolute certain. "We were both so disappointed."

"She didn't speak until she was almost two years old…" Shelby sighs, shaking her head gently in her recollection of that terrifying time period in which the two parents had feared beyond feared that Rachel's premature birth had interfered immeasurably with her development… Her doctor's hadn't been able to figure this phenomenon out, and neither had her parents. Eventually, they would learn that Rachel was the type of infant that simply chose to take things at her own pace. "She's already had to fight so hard… She's always been such a good girl, Hiram… She looks up to us, she listens to us… She's nothing like Noah, Noah has always been our little free spirit, he does anything that he wants to do. It was Rachel that always waited for one of us to give her the okay… I used to think that she would be asking me to hold her hand to cross the street until she was in college."

Shelby speaks in the past tense, much like she always did when speaking of Rachel these days.

"Do you think that she's holding on because of us?" Hiram asks, professing his gradual understanding towards what it is that his wife was trying to communicate with him, "That she's waiting for us to tell her that it's okay for her to let go?"

"Maybe it's time, Hiram…" Shelby addresses her husband's question with a loud, length expression of agony; a deep-throated cry that originates from the core of her very heart itself, carrying upwards and across the length of her throat… She looks towards the girl before her, the child that has looked towards her mother for every answer from the very beginning and suddenly, she realizes that Rachel has simply been waiting on Shelby to give her the okay to leave this entire time.

"It won't ever be time…" Hiram shakes his head against the idea that there could ever actually be such a thing as too much time to spend with his children… He understands that human nature in itself is notorious for its desire to have absolutely everything, and to continue wishing for more once that everything is finally gone, but at the same time, he doesn't believe this to be such a ludicrous desire to profess; simply to be granted more time to spend with his daughter… Four years has not been enough, but he understands that in these terms, enough can never possibly be enough.

"I know that," Shelby nods; the threat of tears is constantly lingering against the back of her throat but at the same time, her voice remains firm, determined… There will be a time to cry later, but now is certainly not that time. "But Hiram… this isn't fair of us… to keep Rachel here because we can't let her go."

"I can't…" Hiram chokes, an impossibly ugly sob escaping from the very pit of his throat. "I love her too much, Shelby."

"I know," Shelby reciprocates, and she is the one person in the entirety of this world that Hiram can believe when she tells him that she understands the insurmountable pain that he is currently feeling. "That's why we have to give her away."

Hiram inhales; a deep, shuddering breath that is meant to control his racing heartbeat but his attempts fail as he buries his face deep inside of his hands, suddenly unconcerned with the sheer volume of his tears as they escape from within his eyes, drip between the roots and crevices of his palm and splash against the floor below.

He can feel a gentle hand against his back as Shelby rubs soothing circles between his shoulder blades, offering what little comfort that she can in the understanding that the only thing that Hiram can possibly withstand in this moment is silence…

And against absolutely everything that he has ever believed in terms of God and the universe, Hiram Corcoran finds himself praying to absolutely any entity that could possibly listen that wherever his daughter may end up tonight, that she is protected, that she is safe.

"Hiram!"

He isn't entirely certain how long it was that Shelby had allowed him to wallow in his grief, but when she calls for his attention once more, her voice is poignant and urgent so that he is practically forced to rip his eyes upwards, to allow them to travel automatically towards where Shelby is already running at a full sprint over towards Rachel.

For the briefest of moments, Hiram's heart positively stops inside of his chest for fear that this is it, that Rachel was gone, that fate would have a say in deciding when to take his daughter away from him before her parents would have so much as the opportunity to interfere, but the room is silent, it's devoid of all of the stereotypical whirs and blaring buzzers characteristic of a typical code blue…

"Shelby, what is it?" In his curiosity, his face wipes of all emotions; his tears dry instantaneously, his brain focusing inward upon their current dilemma in an effort to forget that there was currently a bigger problem at hand…

"She moved."

He feels it again immediately; that impossible tightness deep within the center of his chest, only this time, it's accompanied by a swelling of relief that turns his emotional turmoil upside down on its head…

"W-what do you mean she moved? Like… like she's waking up, just moved? When did it happen; just now?" He stumbles over his own words as he clutches against the bedrails firmly safeguarding Rachel into her bed until his knuckles turn white, his eyes scanning across his child's tiny frame in an effort to catch a glimpse of her apparent movement.

"Yes she moved, just now, I saw it, I swear!" Shelby is insistent, but the longer the two parents stare without so much as a hint of a follow up, the more the both of them find themselves thinking that in her desperate desire for this to be the truth, Shelby had simply begun seeing things.

They fall silent; neither parent moves, they don't speak, they don't so much as dare to breathe as they stand, poised and prepared, waiting for the impossible…

Minutes pass that last for hours but neither Shelby nor Hiram see so much as a twitch of a finger originating from Rachel's prone form…

They are just convincing themselves – with a disappointed sigh – that Shelby has simply made the entire thing up, they are just sinking back downwards against the uncomfortable couch when it happens again, and this time, neither Hiram nor Shelby miss it…

A shrug of her shoulders, the slightest stretching of her neck as Rachel's right hand raises feebly from her bed, clutching at thin air in a desperate search for something that she can grab onto in an effort to help physically pull her back into the world that she has come so close to leaving all behind…

Shelby is on her feet before Hiram can so much as process that the scene currently unfolding before him is actually real…

He watches as Rachel continues to reach upwards within her unconscious, fingers outstretched to the point that it appears as if she is trying to hold hands with God himself… But luckily, before she has the opportunity to reach him, she ultimately manages to make contact with the next best thing -

Her mother.

* * *

><p><strong>Sillystarshine<strong>** – I don't think that Rachel was ever planning not to follow through getting treated, she's just understandably scared. Luckily she'll have Noah and Shelby there for her and the rest of the glee club once the news is spilled to them… Hiram definitely has left his kids with a lot of baggage, Noah particularly and we'll find a little bit more about why in a few chapters… As always, thank you so much for the review! Thank you isn't enough. **

**Amandaes417**** – Aw jeez, I always feel bad when people tell me that I made them cry, I'll try to cut you guys a break with all the sadness soon but I'm glad you're enjoying! Thank you for the review!**

**Beckg77**** – Wow, thank you so much for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying!**

**Beaner008**** – Thank you for your kindness as always! There is definitely more to Santana's story than what she's letting on, and don't worry, she will have a chance to explain herself once Noah cools down a bit. I love Santana's character/have a girl crush on Naya Rivera so this is not the last of Santana. Thank you again!**

**Adilamgp**** – I'm honored! Thank you for the review.**

**NinjaGleek21**** – Oh yay, my favorite! Thank you!**

**Isis123**** – Ahh, I'm sorry! I think it's safe to say that from here on out this entire story is going to be one giant tissue warning… Thank you for your review!**

**Baygirl123**** – Ah, good, I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for the review.**

**Ballerina03**** – Oh wow, that sounds awesome, I always wanted to do something like that. Yuppp I'm graduating from Boston University in May which is pretty crazy. Writing just kind of became something I started doing to ease the stress and I'm a pre-med student so stress is something that was plentiful haha. It took me a while to decide to throw a story up here too but you should definitely do it! I got the idea for this while working at Children's Hospital in Boston and just meeting some of the incredible families that were there. There's always so much more to a family's story than meets the eye and this kind of just popped into my head one day. And of course, thank you for your review as always, I always love them!**

**Pocketfulofsunshine**** – Thank you so much! Hahaha, I think it's safe to assume she took the elevator and didn't spontaneously run up ten flights of stairs like Noah :)**

**Donna14**** – Thank you so much for the review, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it!**

**Seher143**** – Wow, thank you so much for your beautiful review, I'm honored!**

**Gleek30**** – I'm glad you enjoyed! I was afraid it would be a little bit too over packed so I'm happy you liked it! I also wanted to start sneaking in the rest of the glee club a bit so I'm glad you liked them in there! There's a little bit more to Santana lying about being pregnant than meets the eye, so Santana will be redeemed, Noah just needs to cool off a bit first before she makes her reappearance. Rachel and Noah are going to start relying on each other a lot soon in a lot of different ways so I'm glad you like them because there's a lot of them coming up! Next chapter will be in the present, I promise!**

**Miriami**** – Oh wow, thank you, I am honored, really! Shelby will be up next, followed by Rachel, sorry to keep you waiting, Shelby and Rachel's perspectives are definitely my favorite to write but I like to mix things up a bit! I think that I can promise at least weekly updates, this story has become my stress relieving activity and lately I need a lot of that! I came up with the idea for this story while I was working at Children's Hospital in Boston in the oncology ward. Writing kind of became my outlet to get away from school for a while and after meeting and interacting with some of the amazing families that I up there I kind of just wanted any means of putting their stories out there because they truly are some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. I don't think that this can even give them a little bit of justice, but I really do appreciate your amazing feedback. **

**Readerforlife**** – Yay! Thank you!**


	22. Shelby Corcoran  November 2011

**Hey everybody! Hope you all had a lovely Easter/Passover/Normal Sunday...**

**Also, one quick side note, my keyboard is broken (again) and the bottom row/space bar only work if you slam it really, really hard so if there's any part that is missing a letter or two, I apologize in advance, I didn't really edit this chapter, and let me know if you can't understand anything because of my stupid, ancient computer and I'll try to fix it as best as I can!**

* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – November 2011_  
>(Part I)<em>

* * *

><p><em>The only thing that her mind can consciously process is pain.<em>

_It swells relentlessly inside of her; pulsating and spreading up the length of her spine until ultimately, its buried so deep within the very pit of her brain itself, that she's convinced she will never quite be able to shake it…_

_ The only thing that Shelby Corcoran can feel is pain, and the only thought that she can process is that she is not a pretty crier…_

_ "Push, Shelby," Her husband is hovering above her, egging her relentlessly on, but he doesn't understand what this feels like, he can't possibly know, although this seems like an unfair construct of the human anatomy seeing as how he'd contributed half of the DNA that had put her in this position to begin with. "You're doing great, just keep pushing." _

_ Shelby is prepared to punch the next person that tells her to push directly in the face so that maybe they too would possess the capacity to understand but a fraction of the searing pain that rips across her every bone with each passing contraction… So that maybe they too would understand that all she wants is for them to stop trying to convince her that now is the right time for her to deliver her child…_

_Shelby, it seems, is the only person inside of this room that remembers that her daughter still has two months until she's at full term. _

"_No, Hiram…" Shelby is crying, her voice seems distant, weekend in her pain and sorrow; it doesn't possess nearly enough strength to emphasize the capacity of her grief, running rampant across her mind, "It's too early… Tell them; tell the doctors that it's too early. We can't have her yet!"_

_ "Honey, she's crowning…" The nurse has seemed to ignore Shelby's pleas; clearly she hasn't been listening to a word that the anguished mother has just said towards the insistence that her daughter was not ready to be born; not yet. "I need you to take a nice, deep breath for me and push as hard as you can right now."_

_ "No!" Shelby wails; her tears a combination of overwhelming pain as yet another contraction tears through the entirety of her body as well as the overwhelming grief towards the idea that this child cannot possibly survive being brought into this world so early. "No, she's not ready!"_

_ Shelby attempts to squeeze her knees closed; she's holding her breath until she's blue in the face, her forehead is glistening with sweat, the hair raining across her face sticking to the moist droplets in a manner that Shelby knows, must make her appear to be positively insane… _

_She is starting to think that maybe she is. _

"_Shelby, honey, I know that it's early…" Hiram squeezes her hand purposefully, clenching with all of his might as he attempts to provide her with as much a sense of comfort as is possible for a desperately worried mother. "But she's going to be okay. Our daughter is going to be okay, Shelby, she's strong… She must be if she's got a little bit of you inside of her, right?"_

_Tears sting at the undersides of Shelby's eyes as she forces herself to stare into those of her husbands, always a comfort, and nods her head vigorously… She attempts to convince herself that Hiram does have a point; if their child is so determined to come out now as opposed to later, than it must be because she was ready, and she was ready now…_

_Her daughter can do this; she can be okay, she can be strong._

"_Shelby, we need you to breathe, honey… and push!" The nurse capitalizes on Shelby's moment of vulnerability in her confusion and practically forces the woman to squeeze the infant unwillingly from her body as much as the only thing that she possibly wants to do right now is to hold on…_

_The young mother screams in her agony; there's a roomful of people standing observantly between her open thighs, prepared to handle the delivery of a two month premature infant with the expertise of experience, but Shelby's modesty is an idea that she can care less about… _

_She was willing to invite the entire world out to see her should they possess the capacity to get this child out of her safely._

"_Okay, Shelby, we just need one more big push and you will have a beautiful baby girl…" The doctor is coaxing her on, and all at once, she finds the pain vanishing from her senses, replaced with the more important task at hand; bringing herself poised and prepared to register the familiar screaming cries of a newborn, the pink, wrinkled flailing limbs waving through the air._

_She identifies the physical disconnection as her child is physically ripped from the body that it had spent the last seven months housed inside of, but Shelby doesn't hear any of the familiar noises, she doesn't see any of the familiar sights that had marked her last child's birth._

_Instead, there is nothing._

"_Where is she?" Shelby screams frantically, her head swiveling about the room in search for a glimpse of her child, but the cluster of doctors at her feet is just too large… she can't see a damn thing. "Where is my daughter; is she okay? Dr. Raymond, where is she!"_

_ Shelby is calling for the attention of her OB/GYN, but he is relentless in his ignoring of her; his arms cradled with the bundle that she knows to be the daughter she cannot see inside of them as he rushes towards the pre-prepared, sterile table pressed against the opposite side of the room._

_ Everything is so frantic, yet still, much too still for Shelby's liking… She can feel her heart constricting almost immediately._

_ "Dr. Raymond, please talk to me!" Tears are dancing inside of Shelby's eyes as she catches a fleeting glimpse of her motionless child, her doctor pressing two rapidly pumping fingers against the infant's impossibly miniscule chest in an effort to jumpstart her still heart…_

_ "It will be okay, honey…" A nurse is mopping the sweat from Shelby's brow line, but the cool washcloth is providing her with little to no extra relief. "Sometimes premature infants just need a little extra help to start breathing."_

_ The mother's eyes are wandering frantically, her over-sensitized vision absorbing the every detail of the room before her, but no matter what, they always seem to make their way back to the same place…_

_ But this time, when Shelby's eyes meet those of her daughter's once more, there's a bizarre calm; an atmosphere that does not embellish the idea that there is a newborn knocking at death's door directly before them…_

_ "Why are they stopping?" Her voice is quivering with emotion… Shelby knows the answer to her own question, it's tearing a hole deep through to the pit of her brain, it's pounding painfully between her skull, but still, she can't bring herself to believe it; she refuses to believe it… "Why aren't you doing anything? Why won't you help her?"_

_ She's thrashing from her position against her hospital bed, but her muscles are impossibly weakened from the strains of having just given birth… She can feel the painful tugging against the taut skin against the back of her hand as the IV previously embedded deep within her veins rips from its burrow, blood pooling in a steady stream from the site._

_ She wants to rush towards her child, she wants to grab her daughter and positively breathe for her if that was what it was that she had to do, but there is something, somebody holding her back; a vice grip clasping painfully at her shoulders in the reminder that she is much too weak to be the cure that her child will need this time around…_

_Hiram,_

"_Let go of me!" She sounds like a savage; not even Shelby recognizes the voice that she knows so well, the voice that has taken her so far as she rips herself from the arms that she trusts the most; those of her husband, "Let me go, Hiram! They're not doing anything; they're trying to kill her! They're trying to kill our daughter! We need to save her!"_

_ "Shelby…" He speaks calmly; his voice is serene, it's not reflecting on the idea that he has just lost a child… _

_ His tone is so shocking, that it stops even her in the midst of her most important of missions… She eyes her husband as if he has just grown an extra head._

_ "Shelby, it's too late… There's nothing that we can do for Rachel now."_

_ Rage filters across Shelby's very veins; she cannot believe what it is that she is hearing; is her husband truly choosing to give up on their child so easily? A father is supposed to be willing to do anything, to do everything, and now, Hiram was doing… well, nothing other than choosing to accept that their daughter's life has ended before it has even had the opportunity to begin._

_ "What are you talking about?" Tears are flooding through Shelby's eyes as she attempts to rip herself from Hiram's arms, "We have to save her, Hiram! We have to save Rachel."_

_ Shelby pauses abruptly from within Hiram's arms as the name slips off of her tongue… It sounds right, it sounds positively natural, but at the same time, her and Hiram have yet to name their child… they haven't even had the opportunity to discuss names, she had come into this world so early…_

_But Hiram had called their daughter Rachel… and so had she._

_Amidst the muddled chaos, Shelby finds her head physically beginning to pain her as she struggles to put together the pieces…_

_ Her eyes scan her surroundings, they focus beyond Hiram's broad shoulders towards where she knows her deceased daughter to lay, except this time, when her eyes catch the still form of her child, they no longer capture onto the image of an infant…_

_ The girl has transformed before her very eyes, grew from fifteen minutes to fifteen years in a matter of seconds…_

_Even as a teenager, she can see that her daughter has truly grown into a nearly exact replica of herself… Shelby looks into Rachel's eyes, and in an instant, she feels as though she might as well be looking into those of her own…_

_ But there remains a stark difference between the two… Unlike her own, Rachel's eyes are wide, glazed, staring without actually seeing in their lifelessness…_

_ Shelby's vision is slowly focusing, zooming inwards and back out like a camera as the muddled fog curtaining over her brain opens into the image of her fifteen year old daughter; her pale, motionless, dead fifteen year old daughter…_

_ "No! No, Rachel!" Shelby's knees give out from underneath her in her realization; she crumples to a ball at her husband's feet, the hospital gown that she still adorns splayed out beneath her as she reaches a shaking arm outwards to reach her daughter, only to miss her by a hair… She is just too far._

_ "Rachel, please!" Shelby is begging, but to no avail; wherever Rachel is right now, she cannot hear her mother… Tears are streaming from Shelby's eyes; she's on her hands and knees attempting to crawl towards her daughter, but the further she travels, the further it seems, Rachel is slipping away from her._

_ "Hiram, do something!" Her words are barely distinguishable through her tears as a small group of doctors, masked and gowned into anonymity throw a thin, white sheet across Rachel's body, blocking her wide eyes, her porcelain face from her mother's frantic view. "Hiram, they're trying to take her! Don't let them take her, Hiram, please… bring her back."_

_ "There's nothing that I can do, Shelby… This was supposed to be your job." His voice changes abruptly; it's suddenly cold, distant, marked of the men wheeling her child out of the room and away from her…_

_ Shelby tries to follow, but it seems as though her feet are mysteriously glued to the ground below._

_ "Please… please…" Her desperate pleas are the only words that her exhausted mind can allow to escape from beyond her mouth, but still, Hiram is adamant in his refusal to comply… Instead, he simply clutches upon her, his fingers wrapping delicately about her upper arm as he pulls her upwards and to a standing position._

_ Her head tilts upwards naturally in an attempt to meet his eyes, but the second that she does, she falls back once more in her expression of a terrified horror…_

_ The skin of Hiram's face is so white that she can practically see straight through the tissue and into his very insides… His lips are chapped and cracked open, deep, purple bags underline the bottoms of his sagging eyes, emphasizing the vessels bursting across his pale, gray irises… His hair is matted down with blood… there is just so much blood. It oozes, thick and prominent from the back of his open skull, dripping steadily down the length of this head, out of the corners of his mouth… everywhere. _

_ "Your life is bound by law to hell, Shelby…" His voice is deep, almost painfully raspy, positively devoid of the characteristic humanism that her husband is so well known for. "I was the first... they're next."_

* * *

><p>Shelby Corcoran shoots upwards so quickly from within her bed that her back cracks.<p>

Her body rises alongside a quick, sharp gasp that burns like ice across her veins… She is panting heavily, yet still, no oxygen seems able to finds its way into her lungs… Her chest is heaving, it steadily begins to burn in its lack of the life-sustaining gas as tears well automatically into her eyes and spill wet and hot down her cheeks… whether from the strain of a nightmare that had seemed so real, or from lack of oxygen, Shelby cannot be entirely certain.

Probably a little bit of both.

Shelby is shuddering where she lay; she can't bring herself to open her eyes for fear of what she might find, and although she knows that she is expected to be the absolute epitome of bravery right now, she's just too terrified of all of this change to prevent such vulnerable moments.

She attempts a slow, steadying breath, but finds herself coming up empty in her luck… She has been known to do this to herself every once in a while, especially in these past couple of days, where she can't seem to find herself able to wake completely from her nightmares, and even when she does, to struggle to discern them between what is a dream and what is reality…

Her hands are trembling so hard that they literally sting as she reaches upwards to wipe her moist palms across the length of her hair, matted down with the thick sweat of her worst nightmares.

Her surroundings are slowly beginning to clear from behind hazy eyes, and she finally allows herself to open them against the pitch blackness of the night as it seeps in through her bedroom window…

She's in her home, she tells herself. She is inside of her bedroom, in her home in Lima, Ohio… Her two children are asleep within their own bedrooms, just down the hallway from her own, but within the confines of her own closed door, she is alone.

Despite the insistencies of her dreams, her husband is dead; he has been dead for over ten years now even though every once in a while, she has to force her subconscious to remember this seemingly obvious fact; that when she sleeps, she does so alone.

Through a steep, shaky sigh, Shelby's hand brushes across the empty space against her bed that used to be occupied by Hiram… Still, an entire decade later, Shelby can't bring herself to cross the invisible borderline between her side of the bed and her deceased husband's…

So yes, Shelby reminds herself; she is still a widow, Hiram is still dead… Hiram is still dead, but her children – both of them – are still safe…

Or as safe as they ever possibly could be under these conditions.

She never would have believed that a dream could possibly hurt so much; physically pain her deep down to the very confines of her soul…

It had all seemed so real; the idea that she had travelled nearly sixteen years into the past to relish on the possible alternative of her daughter's birth, the notion that she had seen her teenage daughter lying dead before her very eyes, her deceased husband telling her that it was all her fault…

It is impossible… she knows that it is impossible, but still, her concept of the meaning of the word impossible has already been skewed more than once as of late.

The hole currently embedded deep within the center of her chest is telling her that it wasn't impossible, that nothing was impossible, because if there was indeed such a thing as impossibility, Shelby would have already guaranteed that it was impossible for her to currently be laying in bed at an impossible hour of the morning, just over twenty four hours away now, from the first day of Rachel's chemotherapy treatments…

If there was ever such a thing as an impossibility Shelby would have already insisted that it was impossible that a mere two days ago, her child; a girl with the entire world ahead of her, had been diagnosed with leukemia…

Again.

The frantic mother resists the urge to pull herself out of bed to check on Rachel… Still so early in the beginnings of this new morning that not even the sun had begun to make its appearance quite yet, Shelby knows that her daughter is exhausted; she's exhausted, and she's still so impossibly sick… She does not want to wake her daughter up quite yet, as much as her maternal instinct may.

She forces her body back downwards against the mattress, her hands clenched into fists as she rubs the exhaustion from her eyes, begging her head to screw on a little bit straighter, a little bit tighter amidst all of the confusion, all of this muddled chaos.

It has been just under forty eight hours now since Rachel's diagnosis, and admittedly, things have proven slightly simpler at this stage than they have been the last time the family has been here…

And despite the notion that Shelby has been both mentally expecting, as well as preparing for this moment for years now, the idea that experience has allowed her to become an expert in the Murphy's Law of cancer didn't hurt either…

At the very least, she now understands that things are guaranteed to get worse, much worse, before they can ever possibly begin to get better.

But even if she is a bit out of practice, for now at the very least, Shelby finds her mind eased, at least somewhat, with the acknowledgment that she no longer has to ask all of the questions that she already knows all of the answers to…

She knows how things like this play out, she knows the routine, they have all already been down this road once before…

Following Rachel's brief release from the hospital late yesterday afternoon in an effort to give the pained teenager a time to process her diagnosis, Rachel will be admitted back into Lima Memorial Hospital by seven o'clock tomorrow morning.

By eight, she will already be deep within the process of preparing for the debilitating side effects that the chemotherapy will undoubtedly have on her already fragile body… Anti-nausea medications that will barely seem to have any effect, iron tablets in an effort to keep her blood counts up although her CBS will inevitably plummet to the extent that visitors will be forced to wear a spacesuit just to visit the girl, outside objects will have to be wrapped into layers of plastic wrap just to get a prayers chance of Rachel ever actually seeing them…

She will have a daily pill regimen during the extent of her treatments that could stock an entire nursing home for a month; a cocktail to ensure that the cytotoxic chemicals designed to save her, don't actually kill her in the process…

The girl will barely be granted the opportunity to so much as recover from a process exhausting in itself before zero hour will strike; the beginnings of a seven day induction cycle; the crash course of drugs that will wipe her entire body clean… just like they are designed to…

When Rachel had been four years old, her doctor had compared the deliverance of these drugs to somebody hitting the emergency melt-down button in a nuclear waste plant during a major disaster… The second that that button is pushed, things will move fast, and they will move hard in an effort to reset completely before tragedy has the opportunity to irreversibly strike.

Rachel's melt-down button will come in two primary forms; a twenty four hour cycle of 1g/m2 IV Cytarabine given in combination with 0.54 mg/m2 Plitidepsin given to her every single day for the next seven…

And then, repeat.

It may have been over a decade since she'd last had to concern herself with such attention to detail, but still, these days, it's been feeling more and more as if it had been only yesterday.

Things were going to move quickly for these first several days of getting Rachel settled in, Shelby knows this, and to somebody who may have never experienced it before, she also knows that it is enough to make even the most stable of heads spin… But to a seasoned professional like Shelby, there was a prerequisite understanding towards the idea that as much as one may want to fall off of the face of the Earth in a time like this, it simply wasn't an option…

They have all made it much too far to do that now.

Despite the idea that Shelby's aching eyes want nothing more than to just get some sleep, the woman lays wide awake inside of her bed until her alarm finally begins to blare about an hour behind her.

It's 5:30 in the morning; Shelby sighs with this realization as she slams her hand downwards upon the clock in an effort to silence its relentless insistencies upon reminding her just how quickly the time is flying past.

It's 5:30 on a Monday morning and despite the fact that she would have yet to be awake even had she been actually going into work today, Shelby swings her legs about the edge of her bed and steps into her respective slippers, knowing that there is a vital reason towards why she must be awake before even the sun is.

That she has just over twenty four hours now to prepare for her life to screech to even more of a standstill than it already has.

She stretches her stiff muscles only briefly from her position seated against her bed; her joints straining and cracking against the pressure of having been tossing and turning in wake of her nightmares all night.

When she finally does stand up, her knees are so tight, that she almost collapses all over again… She has to make a strained effort to actually remain standing, but can't help but wonder what the point of her doing so actually is.

The sound of a powerful snore – no doubt originating from the bedroom of her son, who sounds like a freight train when he sleeps – rips across the thin walls of her bedroom in an effort to remind her of the reason that she has remained standing for the past eighteen years; her children.

Shelby hasn't checked on her children as they slept since they were in elementary school… In an act of defiance when he had been in sixth grade, Noah had come home from school alongside the claim that none of the other kids in his grade had their parents check up on their kids nearly as often as Shelby had….

Shelby wanted to argue with her son that none of the other kids in his grade had a reason for their parents to check up on their kids nearly as often as Shelby did, but she had bit her tongue strictly for Noah's sake… He was at that age, she had reminded herself, where Noah's classmates would set the standards for everything he himself did… She had stopped, but it was merely to please her son and the transition had not, by any circumstances, been easy…

The further that her kids had attempted to pull away from her, the tighter Shelby found herself holding on; and after everything that they had ever been through, well who could possibly blame her?

They have all travelled impossibly far, seen things that none would ever voluntarily choose to relive or to discuss despite the idea that these days, they didn't seem to have much of a choice in the matter… But if there was one thing that was for absolute certain, it was that thus far, their lives have been no holiday… every time Shelby turned her back for so much as a second, it seems, things had shot straight to hell for not only her, but for her children as well…

She is insistent upon the idea that she wasn't going to do that again, not anymore… Shelby Corcoran was never going to turn her back on either one of her children ever again.

Shelby finds herself walking on the tips of her toes, her feet moving silently down the length of the hallway despite the knowledge that both of her children possess a remarkable capacity to sleep through a Blitzkrieg attack should need be.

Her chest is heaving by the time she rounds into Noah's bedroom; her lungs weighted down exponentially by the absolute weight of the world, leaving her exhausted to the point that she feels as though she might as well have just run a marathon.

When Noah had been an infant, Hiram used to call him their little tornado. He'd thrash about in his sleep with so much force, that he used to wake up with bruises from banging against the side of his crib; he used to tear his sheets into shreds… Shelby had been forced to leave the safety rail installed against the sides of his bed until he was ten years old, simply to ensure that he didn't crack his head open in his sleep…

And in Noah's coming of age, Shelby had found that things hadn't changed much.

Her son lay sprawled flat against his stomach on the mattress; his wife beater raised and tangled against his toned torso, the comforter having long ago been kicked aside and onto the floor while his sheets remained balled up against his feet.

One arm dangles lifelessly over the side of his bed, the other remaining pinned upwards and above his head as he drools slightly against his pillow and snores so loudly from outside the corners of his mouth that his entire body shakes.

The mother can't help but to smile, the image providing her with the slightest sense of relief amidst otherwise chaos as she evaluates her son in his animated sleep, unable to help but to wonder when it was that their lives had gotten so real.

Shelby slips silently into Noah's bedroom, her body squeezing easily through the open space between the door and its frame, left permanently ajar by the broken panel of wood and approaches her son with a gentleness that she knows is not necessary in Noah's heavy sleep although she feels obligated to perform with such anyway.

She lifts the comforter tenderly off of the floor, her hands moving expertly to untangle the blanket from the disheveled state that Noah has left it in before she lowers it gently against his exposed body despite the fact that she knows that it will only be a matter of moments before it's on the floor once more.

Her efforts are worthless, Shelby knows this, but at the same time, she also knows that it is an action that she simply has to perform; that as a mother, it is her job, and hers alone, to protect the both of her children… whether it be from a lingering chill or from a disease that is threatening to tear either away from her.

Shelby leans downward gently, bending at the waist so that her lips may linger gently a top his forehead, her hand rubbing soothingly across the boy's Mohawk, already flattened in his sleep.

Noah rustles slightly where he lay, but as expected, he never wakes up… Shelby is silently grateful; she knows that her son would be mortified should he have been made aware of his mother's actions, but suddenly, she can't bring herself to care… Shelby needs something, anything to serve as a reminder that not her entire life has been ripped into absolute ribbons… and considering the idea that her children remain her only consistency, she knows that this is it.

When Shelby does finally retreat from within her son's room, she does so with an air of emptiness, a regretful pang that rings deep within the very center of her heart and makes her feel as though she's leaving her son permanently behind in her wake, despite everything that she knows about his simply laying in the room adjacent.

The feeling comes accompanied with the acknowledgment towards the notion that each step that she takes closer towards Rachel's bedroom feels like a punch to the gut, alongside the understanding that come tomorrow, there will no longer be anybody sleeping inside of it…

Not for a long time, anyway.

She's faking her sleep; Shelby can tell this much the second that she lays eyes on her daughter's form from within her bed… The normally restless girl is much too peaceful, much to still with her back turned towards the open doorway… Rachel must have heard her mother coming.

Shelby considers calling out to her clearly pained daughter, she considers leaving her be to exist within the silence and solitude that she so clearly desires, but in her confliction, Shelby instead finds herself entranced; hypnotized by the steady motions of her child's back as it rises and falls steadily in her breathing, left slightly uneven with the reminder that she is still recovering from the infection that had brought her into the emergency room, the infection that had spurred her diagnosis to begin with…

Her mind can't help but to flash immediately back and into her previous dream state, still playing vividly inside of her head; Rachel laying dead directly before her very eyes in both her infancy and her present form, and all at once, Shelby is willing to accept these unsteady breaths of sickness as opposed to the much more terrifying alternative.

She chooses not to linger before Rachel's unstill bedroom, chooses not to approach the girl as she had done so Noah in an effort to keep from disturbing the already distraught girl, who has clearly just spent the past night just as restless as she herself had been.

In her silent acknowledgment towards the understanding that Rachel's bruises ran just as deeply as her own, Shelby turns away, she retreats with the acknowledgment that she can't possibly think rationally under these conditions…

Shelby tries to convince herself that they are okay, that her children are currently nestled safely within the hands of her own beds as she approaches the staircase; a second dominating thought pushing prominently against the forefront of her brain, now that the safety of her children has been ensured…

She is desperately in need of a cup of coffee.

Shelby is halfway descended down the length of her staircase when she is forced to a sudden standstill… She cannot tell whether or not this sense is that of her subconscious emphasizing her desire for the hot beverage or what, but suddenly, she finds herself able to smell the prominent scent of the dark roasted beverage as it wafts into her senses from all the way within the kitchen.

It's only upon hearing a soft rustling, confirming that this was not something that is simply all in her head that Shelby grows immediately concerned… Either somebody has broken into her home, or she is officially losing her mind in its entirety…

Either way, Shelby's options were looking slim.

She rounds the corner into the living room with caution, back pressed up and against the wall as she walks on her tiptoes in an effort to remain as silent as humanly possible… Gradually, Shelby finds herself actually believing that maybe she truly is going nuts… after all, what kind of burglar would enter into her house and immediately start making coffee?

She's hoping that it's true; her kids have enough things to worry about, they don't need a home invasion under their belts now as well…

Shelby grabs at the first thing that she can find that has the potential of being used as a weapon… a candle embedded within a thick, heavy glass jar that she's hoping, at the very least, she will be able to throw with enough power to knock out somebody long enough to shuttle her children to safety and call for help…

Of course, athleticism has never been Shelby's cup of tea… it was why she had gone onto a Broadway stage as opposed to an Olympic one… Her aim was embarrassing at best, her strength even worse; the odds were not looking good.

With one final, steadying breath, Shelby embarks upon the best ready position that she can muster. She creates a wide base, her muscles flexed with the preparation to lunge, although she knows that she must look like a fool in doing so…

She leaps outwards and around the corner into the kitchen with a sudden abruptness that causes the single individual standing at the kitchen sink to gasp in her shock, the porcelain coffee mug slipping from her hands where it tumbles to the floor alongside the familiar tinkering of glass that indicates that the cup is now unsalvageable.

"Jesus, Shelby!" The concerned mother drops her guard in an instant, her heart pounding alongside the understanding that there is no danger to be had in this unexpected visitor.

"Krista…" Shelby breathes gently, placing her intended weapon down against the table, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible towards her previous intentions of bludgeoning her sister to death with a candle. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Shelby's words sound harsh, but her expression is gentle, grateful even as she completes her journey with an added sense of ease and wraps her younger sister into a tight embrace that Krista allows to linger alongside the acknowledgment that a hug is the one thing that her sister needs the most right about now.

"What, did you think that just because you forgot to call me on Saturday to tell me that my niece was in the emergency room that mom and dad would too?" Krista detaches herself from Shelby's arms, pacing her hands firmly on her hips; her face is stern so that she suddenly resembles their mother with an almost frightening accuracy, "Jesus Shelby, what were you going to do; wait two months to tell me that Rachel has cancer just like you did the last time?"

Shelby recoils; Krista's accusations are harsh… accurate, but harsh. The sisters have never been anything less than supportive of one another; she can understand why Krista might be offended by Shelby's distance… Shelby did after all, have a history of being unable to find the words to emphasize a tragedy and therefore, as a direct result, to wallow in her silence instead…

"I did call you…" Shelby grows naturally defensive, "I called you when we first got into the ER; you're the one that never answered… I'm sorry that things got a little bit hectic after that, Krista; my daughter had just been diagnosed with leukemia."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, alright?" Krista emphasizes her apologetic stance immediately, recognizing that Shelby was a little bit on edge at the moment, and understandably so. "I didn't mean anything by it Shelby. I'm just worried about you guys, that's all."

Shelby pauses; she can see the honesty behind her sister's words deep within the younger woman's eyes and understands immediately, that she is speaking the truth… Krista Berry had always held a soft spot for Shelby's family; emphasized only with time… With no family of her own, Krista never even so much as holding onto a boyfriend for more than a handful of months at a time, Shelby's children had been ensured years of consistent spoiling by their favorite aunt.

"How did you find out?" Shelby breaks the silence with what she assumes to be a fair question as she accepts her sister's gift in the fresh cup of coffee being extended to her.

"Mom and dad…" Krista sighs as she squats downwards in an effort to pick up the shattered pieces of her own coffee mug, discarding the large chunks of glass into the adjacent garbage bin besides her. "I talked to them yesterday… mom mentioned something about catching the next plane up from Florida… I think they might be taking off this morning."

Shelby remains silent in regards to her feeling emotionally torn by the news… As much as her parents possess the capacity to drive Shelby straight up a wall sometimes, at the same time, she can't help but to find comfort in the acknowledgment that they will be by her side in only a matter of hours… as childish as she knows that may sound.

"Don't be mad at them." Krista easily spots the expression of confusion glistening inside of Shelby's eyes and immediately mistakes her silence as an expression of anger.

"I'm not mad…" Shelby promises, "I just feel bad that everybody's running around changing all of their plans just for me."

Krista eyes her sister carefully, and she never actually says it, but Shelby can see the words embedded deep inside of her eyes… fate doesn't care about plans; they all know this.

"Don't, Shelby…" Krista shakes her head incessantly, "It's not just you that we're here for, and you know that… There's a reason that mom and dad moved out here in the first place and it we both know that it wasn't to be closer to me, and it sure as hell wasn't to be closer to Ephraim in Boston either…"

Shelby sighs heavily as she eyes her sister with a heavy gaze… She knows that her sister's words are true… After Hiram had died both her mother and father had packed up everything that they had ever known, sold the house that they had raised their three children in all of their lives, and moved from New Jersey to Lima, Ohio… and it had not been for anybody else other than her, Noah and Rachel.

"So when did you get in?" Shelby sighs, waving off her sister's insistencies, begging for her to accept the change in subject.

"About an hour ago," Krista shrugs as if breaking into her sister's house at the crack of dawn unannounced was no big deal. "Mom called me yesterday… I just had to get a couple of things straightened out at home before I drove down… The good news is that there's no traffic at three o'clock in the morning… I made it over from Detroit in just over an hour."

"You didn't have to drive down here so fast, you know…" Shelby's maternal instinct is emitted upon her sister's tendency towards driving with a lead foot.

"Of course I did… I had to get a good look at my new digs, didn't I?" Krista smirks but Shelby can't bring herself to reciprocate her actions… Instead, she merely eyes her sister with a cautious confusion, trying to decipher whether or not Krista was trying to tell her what she thinks she is trying to tell her. "I'm moving in Shelby… to help you with Rachel and Noah; until things settle down around here, at least."

"Krista, you can't…" Shelby shakes her head slowly, displeased when she sees that Krista is wearing a face that indicates that she knew that this would be Shelby's reaction all along… and more importantly, that she was prepared for it. "You have a good job in Detroit and a beautiful apartment… You can't give that all up, Krista… not for me."

"First of all, I'm not giving anything up; I can work from home, you know… We are in the twenty first century now, Shelby." Krista laughs, but Shelby's expression remains somber as her hands travel automatically to her hips. "Second, I'm not doing this just for you, Shelby, you know that… I'm doing it for my niece and nephew too… And third, my stuff is already in storage, I put my apartment up for rent today… If you kick me out now, I've got nowhere to go so now you have to let me stay."

She smiles, clearly satisfied with herself; Krista has always been the clever one of the family, and on top of that, Shelby knows that once she has her mind set on something, there is no talking her out of it… But still, the last thing that Shelby wants is to have somebody else have to stop their lives in their tracks directly alongside her.

She wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy…

"Aunt Krista?" Shelby doesn't have the opportunity to speak before the tiny voice rings across her ears from somewhere behind her.

Shelby's head snaps so quickly over her shoulder that her neck snaps, leaving her recoiling just long enough for her sister to duck safely from her sight as she approaches her daughter.

"Rachel, honey…" Krista approaches the younger girl, pulling Rachel into her arms, latching on tightly in a manner that Rachel reciprocates immediately. "How are you feeling?"

"Better…" Rachel nods into her aunt's shoulder, allowing their embrace to linger as she falls into the comforting arms that she knows almost as well as those of her own mother's…

After Hiram had died, Krista had become all but a replacement father to her children… She had moved closer, cooked, cleaned and performed all of the tasks that Shelby couldn't seem to bring herself to do whilst mourning the loss of her husband and simultaneously holding onto her daughter's hand all the way through the ends of her chemotherapy treatments.

When they had been younger, Shelby thought that ultimately, it would have been Krista who would end up becoming the mom amidst the two Berry sisters… Shelby had been too driven, she'd had too much of a one-track mind oriented towards committing herself to fame at the time… She'd wanted absolutely nothing to do with a family.

Krista was the compassionate one; she was the sister who embodied the personality of their own mother right down to the very tee, not Shelby…

She could only assume that somewhere along the line, Shelby had caught a glimpse of her own maternal desires while Krista had retreated into a world dominated by her powerful lawyer bravado.

Shelby could not have been happier with the unexpected change of events that had swept across her life; one look at either of her children could have told her that…

"Honey, what are you doing awake?" Shelby changes from the role of big sister into mother the second that Rachel pulls away from her aunt… She knew that her daughter had not been awake before, she just knew it. "You should be getting some sleep, you know that…"

"I couldn't sleep…" Rachel mutters, her answer understandable as she accepts her mother's hovering above her, checking her intently from head to foot as if Shelby doesn't already know that what is currently killing her daughter isn't visible on the outside, but hidden within.

"Okay…" Shelby nods in her acceptance towards Rachel's answer, "How are you feeling?" Shelby doesn't accept the vague answer that Rachel has left her aunt with upon Krista asking the girl the exact same question…

Shelby is pulling for the details that she cannot see for herself, and she can tell that this is a concept that Rachel understands the second that the girl doesn't pull away, but instead lingers as her mother's cool palm grazes across her warm forehead.

"I'm alright…" Rachel insists with a shrug… Her answer is barely a step up from the _better_ that she had previously offered to Krista, and although Shelby can feel that the fever that her daughter has been running for the better half of a week now was continuing in the steady decline that had granted Rachel her amnesty from the hospital to begin with, she can't help to eye Rachel nervously.

"Do you have a headache at all?" Shelby begins her anticipated, relentless questioning of her daughter, her hands tied against Rachel's shoulders as her eyes scan up and down across her pale form, her tired eyes…

She looks sick… understandably, Rachel looks sick, because Rachel _is_ sick… But at first glance, one might mistake her ailment for a bad case of the flu…

No, her daughter was walking around; she was standing directly before her, speaking with her aunt and mother as if it were any other day… And with the zipper of her hooded sweatshirt nestled protectively against the underside of her chin, one couldn't even notice the thin Hickman catheter now protruding from the center of her chest directly against her breast bone… Rachel's new breeding ground for all of her chemotherapy treatments, blood draws, you name it for the next untold number of weeks, months, years…

No, it was impossible upon first glance to ever identify the idea that her daughter was dying right before her very eyes.

"No…" Rachel shakes her head, perhaps with an emphasized force as if to prove that she is currently speaking the truth.

"Are you nauseous; lightheaded… anything?" Shelby refuses to accept Rachel's answer; refuses to believe that there can't possibly be a physical entity currently manifesting itself from within the tiny, microscopic cancer cells that are currently running rampant across Rachel's bloodstream as she speaks without a single thing that she could possibly do about it. "I know that they gave you a transfusion yesterday at the hospital, but Dr. McCarthy said that your counts were still a little bit low so…"

"I'm okay mom…" Rachel attempts to stop Rachel in the heart of her ramblings, but Shelby knows that Rachel must understand that her efforts are futile.

"How about your chest, how are the antibiotics working?" As anticipated, Shelby doesn't stop. Instead, the mother evaluates her child from the inside out, refusing to believe Rachel every time she says something that counters Shelby's insistencies that Rachel was fine… as much as she may have wanted to believe that. "I heard you coughing a little bit last night."

"I'll live…"Rachel replies, but the second that the words have escaped from her mouth, the young girl freezes with realization in regards to the deeper meaning behind her words, averting her eyes from those of her mother's, as Shelby is brought to an immediate, frozen standstill in response to such a seemingly simple phrase.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," Shelby shakes her head gently… She attempts to offer her daughter a soft, comforting smile, but she knows that her eyes are just a little bit wetter than either mother or daughter would have liked.

"Listen, mom…" Rachel speaks quickly in her attempts to push her latest flub onto the back burner. "I was… I was packing up a few things… you know… for tomorrow, and… and I know that it's… I know that I'm, I don't know… too old for that kind of thing and stuff, but…" Rachel stumbles across her own words as she attempts to find the right way to express what it is that she is trying to say. "I can't find Barbra."

"Oh…" Shelby's gentle expression is entirely involuntary, the noise subconsciously slipping from beyond her pursed lips as Rachel's words manage to wrap their way around the mother's heart and offer a painful squeeze that has the organ bursting at the seams.

"Barbra's in my closet, Rach…" Shelby assures the girl of the safety of her stuffed bunny rabbit, tucked away inside the back of Shelby's closet for years now, directly besides Noah's baby blanket… Tokens of a mother who always knows when one of her children will require a little extra support beyond that by which even her own arms can provide.

"Come on," Shelby gestures for Rachel to follow her upstairs, her hand grazing gently across her daughter's slender back as she guides her from the kitchen and towards the stairs; her sister lingering silently in the corner, offering Shelby no more than a small head nod in an effort to assure Shelby that she was making the right move.

"I'll get her for you."

Shelby takes her time digging through her spacious closet despite the fact that the mother knows exactly where it is that Barbra is tucked away… inside of an old shoe box resting against the top shelf of the back, right hand corner….

Understanding allows Shelby to realize that part of her hesitation involves the mother's need to gather her thoughts, to get her head screwed on a little bit straighter… Rachel has been distant with her mother these past several days… since even before her diagnosis, and although her uncharacteristic introversion was understandable, Shelby has not had an opportunity to speak with Rachel… as terribly as she knew that they needed to.

Now that the opportunity is staring the mother directly in the face however, Shelby has absolutely no idea what it is that she is going to say to her daughter… What the hell could she ever possibly say?

When Shelby finally does open the lid to the shoebox that she hasn't touched since Rachel was eight years old, the first thing that she notices is the musky scent characteristic of a piece of fabric being hoarded away in the back of closet for nearly a decade.

The old stuffed animal, once a vibrant white, now has a gentle tint of yellow from years of use and tear, the tattered fur, worn so thin from years of love from a rambunctious child that it crinkles beneath Shelby's touch, falls out directly between her fingers…

Shelby doesn't have the heart to tell her daughter that there is absolutely no way in hell that this object will be allowed inside of the hospital with Rachel while her immune system declined into a state that could leave a single pathogen available to kill her… hell, she doesn't have the heart to tell her that Shelby is feeling uneasy about handing the thing over to Rachel now…

But still, Shelby swallows her fear, and she hands the stuffed animal over towards its rightful owner.

"Here you go, honey…" Rachel's arms stretch naturally outwards to accept the gift, clutching onto the stuffed rabbit that she hasn't so much as thought about since she was a child subconsciously closer into her chest.

Shelby breathes sharply, a rush of cold air filtering across her lungs as the terrified teenager before her transforms before her very eyes into the trembling four year old that was clearly still housed somewhere inside of the girl that Shelby had grown to know today.

The difference between the two is insurmountable, but their similarities only greater, and suddenly, Shelby can't understand the universes reasoning upon placing so much pain upon somebody who was so young… even less than she already couldn't.

She couldn't understand, and she was quite certain that she never would.

"Are you okay?" Shelby's head shoots upwards in response to her daughter's questioning… Her mouth stumbles slightly over her response as she struggles to concentrate on her own words as she studies her daughter's pained face… her normally flawless sense of multi-tasking faltering amidst all of this sudden doubt.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Shelby concedes, although she doesn't understand why she's always insisting that Rachel be honest with her, when she can't ever be honest with her.

"I'll be fine…" Rachel's eyes detract immediately from those of her mother's, but not before the older woman can catch a flash of moisture as it wells across the shimmering orbs… Even if she had missed it, the sound of Rachel's voice cracking with emotion was unmistakable.

Shelby watches as Rachel swallows heavily at the lump of bile caught in the center of her throat and wipes a quick finger beneath her eye in a futile effort to block that notion that she was ever crying… The mother considers complying to Rachel's silent request to pretend as if she hadn't seen anything, but she dismisses the thought almost instantly…

It has already been so long… it was time that Shelby allow Rachel to understand that her mother would be there for her no matter what; so instead of simply ignoring her, Shelby instead chooses to lean forwards, committing to an uncomfortable squat before her daughter as she slinks her arms around the girl's shoulders and pulls her into chest where, it seems, Rachel finds herself fitting perfectly.

There is not so much as a second's hesitation before Rachel's arms are rising against Shelby's upper back, her fingers clenching and twisting into the soft fabric of her mother's t-shirt where she clings for dear life, terrified to do anything more than to pull herself closer.

Days, months, years worth of suppressed tears spring into her daughter's eyes alongside her mother's silent permission to allow them to fall like a faucet from within the safety of her arms, where they're immediately soaked through by the natural sponge that is provided by Shelby's shoulder.

"It's okay, honey… you're going to be okay." Words of assurance escape from within the back of Shelby's throat instinctively as she mutters them into the hair of her sobbing teenager beneath her; Rachel trembling inside of her arms as she attempts to gather the girl even further into them.

"We're going to get through this, Rachel…" Shelby tries desperately to detract the emotion away from her voice but every time she looks downwards towards the crying girl inside of her arms, the only thing that she can see is her four year old all over again, relentlessly asking her mother all of the impossible questions that Shelby can never quite redeem with a complete answer… as much as she may want to. "We're all going to get through this together."

Rachel doesn't respond with anything more than a heavy splutter as her words are swallowed with tears; her back heaving beneath her mother's touch, breaths emitting in short, choking gasps that leave her panting for air until her face is swollen red from lack of oxygen…

"It's okay Rachel…" Shelby attempts to conceal her panic as she watches her daughter hyperventilate from within her very arms… "Breathe, baby, please… You need to breathe, Rae…"

She can hear Rachel trying desperately to adhere to her mother's advice to no avail… She's past the point of committing to anything other than crying herself thin by now… they both know this.

But whether she simply cry herself to sleep or else just pass out from lack of oxygen first, Shelby couldn't be certain.

Shelby had initiated conversation with the hopes that Rachel would open up to her, but she knows now that her daughter is past the point of speaking through such thick tears… But the more that Shelby thinks about it, the more she considers the idea that maybe, Rachel needed this just as badly… if not more so.

Shelby knows for a fact that her daughter had yet found an appropriate time to cry… Of course, neither had Shelby… But this was Rachel's opportunity; Shelby's would come, now was simply not it.

Shelby takes a deep, carefully orchestrated breath alongside the hopes that Rachel will take in the soothing contours of her mother's own rising and falling chest and will make note of the instinctive process that Rachel seems to have forgotten how to perform in her sorrow…

Shelby has always been willing to positively breathe for her children, need be but she could have never truly understood how literal a turn that this could take until this moment…

She feels as slowly, Rachel begins to follow her mother's lead; her breaths hitching temporarily inside of her throat, her ribcage expanding and contracting frantically until she manages to regain a sense of control towards the ailing lungs that are contained inside of it.

Rachel is hiccupping softly, her eyes so swollen inside of her skull that Shelby isn't even certain that she can even see out of them anymore…

"Shh… you're okay, I've got you… You're okay, Rachel." Shelby comforts the girl from her position inside of her arms, guiding her daughter as she continues to breathe steadily in through her nose and straight back out of her mouth… as difficult as it may be for her to do so.

Shelby's head is pounding; a steady thumping that radiates painfully between her temples… She knows that the only means by which she could ever possibly consider releasing this insurmountable pressure is to let herself go completely; to cry, to rip her hair straight from her skull, to scream until her throat is raw, her voice robbed clear from her tongue…

She's well too aware of the idea that she will lose her mind if she loses her sense of control right now, so instead, for the sake of the child currently resting inside of her arms, Shelby takes a deep breath, she steadies her racing thoughts, and she holds onto her daughter just a little bit closer.

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><p><strong>Miee - Thanks for the review, I'm glad you're enjoying. Rachel's gonna have a lot of support coming her way, I promise! Thanks again, I'm honored, really!<strong>

**Twi-Ranger - Yay, I'm glad! I'll make sure to keep it going for you haha. Thank you for your review!**

**Readerforlife- Thank you as always!**

**It'sCanonNow - Wow, thank you! I'm glad you like it, the girl who did it did an awesome job it was really cool to see! I'm glad you're enjoying, thank you so much for the review, I'm honored!**

**Sillystarshine - Thank you as always! Hiram's got a lot more of a story to tell so we'll definitely be seeing him again.**

**Ballerina03 - Yay, I'm glad I could do that for you haha. Happy birthday by the way, hope it was a good one! Hope you enjoy this and France! (But I'm assuming that you may enjoy France a little bit more haha)**

**Baygirl123 - It's coming up, I promise! Thanks for the niceness :)**

**NinjaGleek21** - **Aww, thanks I'm glad I could make you feel fluffy haha.**


	23. Shelby Corcoran  March 2001

**Wow, first and foremost, sorry for the wait guys, remember last week when my keyboard wasn't working? Well it has officially shit the bed completely and being a poor college student, I can't get a new one quite yet so I kind of turn on my computer, cross my fingers and hope for the best for now. But thank you for being patient! I'm hoping to get the next chapter up sooner, I already started writing it but its all handwritten because my computer sucks so we'll see**

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><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran – <strong>March 2001

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><p>The first time that Shelby Corcoran had walked out of Lima Memorial Hospital with her little girl clutched nervously to her hand, she knew that she had been leaving with an entirely different child than that by which she had originally taken inside,<p>

Rachel was still so young, of course, but her dreams… her dreams were as vibrant as someone much older than Shelby herself…

Some people were simply born to be exceptional; her daughter was one of those people.

Every time Shelby heard her daughter's name these days, she simply perceived it as a dream that would never come true; that _could_ never come true.

By the second, the third, the fourth time that Shelby Corcoran had walked out of Lima Memorial Hospital with her little girl inside of her arms; much too weak to so much as walk on her own, she couldn't even remember what Rachel had been like to begin with.

It has been nearly three weeks since the recovery that doctors, nurses; hell random strangers had since taken to calling a miracle.

Scientists had travelled from about the state, the country even to catch a glimpse at the miraculous child that had beat death, that had done what they had never seen done before…

Her daughter had survived the un-survivable.

Shelby knows that this should be a beacon of hope, that this miraculous recovery should be filling the mother with confidence alongside the idea that the best doctors in the country were calling her daughter the strongest they have ever seen, but still, Shelby can't help that it doesn't.

She is much too aware of the idea that she is breaking; that she has been crawling to get absolutely anywhere at all these days… Lately she feels as if she is simply trapped between being alive, and existing inside of a constant state of dreams.

It has been nearly three weeks since the setback that had almost killed her, but only less than a week since her fever and finally dissipated to the point that she was declared strong enough to be removed out of intensive care.

Rachel may have been out of the hospital, but this does not mean that Shelby is breathing any easier than she had been when she was still inside.

After Rachel had woken up with no feeling in her arms or legs, slurring her words until they were even more incomprehensible than they already were in her stereotypical four year old broken English, Shelby had gone from worried to nothing short of panicked.

Days worth of intrusive testing had her child crying harder than Shelby had heard since Rachel's first day of her chemotherapy treatments had had her throwing up inside of Shelby's arms until sunrise… They had all come up inconclusive; her blood work and spinal taps clean, x-rays and MRI's virtually unreadable…

In an effort to give Shelby something, doctors had determined that to the best of their knowledge, Rachel appeared to have sustained brain damage during the cardiac arrest from one of her first nights in intensive care… All Shelby could truly bring herself to care about was the extensive motor damage, which, to her face, doctor's professed would have an unknown recovery period…

She pretended not to hear the whispers behind her back, indicating that a full recovery in Rachel's case was not only unlikely, but improbable.

Her child, who had mastered the art of dancing before she'd so much as spoken her first word has been rendered motionless… Rachel couldn't walk, she could barely move her arms, or speak… She couldn't even eat any longer without the assistance of an ugly feeding tube, snaked down the length of her nose and into the very pit of her stomach…

It has been nearly a week since Rachel had been removed from intensive care, but now that her permanent address was an upscale rehabilitation facility in Toledo – two hours either way from Lima – Shelby isn't certain which she preferred.

The mother watches in image absentmindedly on the news dangling from the television set above her head; a celebrity who's name she can't even remember clamoring from a home that costs more than all of the money that Shelby will make in a lifetime… hell, maybe even two.

It was a life that she can't picture herself ever existing within… almost like this one used to be.

"Momma, look!" Shelby's eyes avert from the screen immediately and towards the direction of her daughter's voice, calling quietly for her attention.

The child offers what Shelby considers a wave for the limited range of motion that Rachel still has in her arms… The reality is that her fingers have barely fluttered, clutched against a miniature walker as her physical therapist stands behind her and helps to guide her braced legs in the motion of a single step…

But Shelby has since learned to take what she can get,, and as it was, this is the first step that Rachel has taken since being admitted into the hospital in the first place.

"Good job, baby…" Shelby beams, but the tears in her eyes directed towards her daughter's precarious situation prevents the motion from truly reaching them. "I'm so proud of you."

Her voice cracks slightly; she is proud of her daughter, of course she is… At a mere four years old, Rachel was stronger and braver than she could ever so much as hope to be… But at the same time, she can't help but relish on the idea that she had told Rachel she was proud of her for taking her first steps three years ago…

She sees kids Rachel's age running around the playground, going to pee-wee soccer practice, dance class, school… And then she sees Rachel, whose success is currently being measured in a single step and her heart can't help but to crack a little bit more than it already is.

"Can you walk to mommy, Rachel?" Shelby knows that her request is a stretch, but she pushes the girl anyway, ducking downwards into a squat so that she's at Rachel's height, arms outstretched alongside the hope that it will be motivation enough to get Rachel to push herself. "Come on honey, try walking to me."

Rachel's face screws into that stubborn concentration that Shelby knows so well and the mother's heart gives an abrupt leap of hope… Once her daughter has her mind set on something, Shelby knows that there is no going back until that task is completed.

"Come on Rachel, let's walk to mom…" Her physical therapist stands behind her, one hand clutched expertly to the child's walker, the other to the back of her calf in an effort to help the girl to extend it into a walking motion…

She is ten steps away from Shelby, if that; her face is turning red, she is concentrating so hard… Her leg quivers slightly, the muscles that her brain no longer knows to control shuddering beneath the skin… Her foot lifts slightly, toes dragging across the tile ground before flattening out once more, barely a centimeter from where she had started.

At this rate, Shelby knows that they will be here until nightfall; the woman eases slightly forwards in an effort to minimize the distance, but this doesn't seem to matter; Rachel is already exhausted, and finally, her tired limbs give out on her all together; she falls to the ground with a crash that makes Shelby cringe.

There isn't a second's hesitation before Rachel bursts into loud, choking tears; her speech may have been affected by the burdens of brain damage, but that doesn't mean that her sobs are…. These days,, she wails louder than Shelby has ever heard, almost as if she's trying to make up for her lack of a voice…

Each fit cuts Shelby straight down to her very core; a constant reminder of just how many hills there were still left to climb despite the fact that they were all so tired already…

"That's enough for today." Shelby insists; her voice is firm… there is no room for debate.

"Mrs. Corcoran, she still has fifteen minutes…"

"I said that that's enough for today." Shelby ignores her insistencies. She likes the woman, truly she does; a young kid right out of college, she was great towards their family, and great for Rachel, but at the moment, Shelby finds herself growing territorial; her child was crying out in her pain, and God help the poor soul that attempts to bar Shelby from reaching her. "I'll bring her to her room."

"Come on, honey…" Shelby's tone changes drastically as her arms extend for the small child on the ground below, scooping her up into their eternal protection.

Immediately, Shelby becomes the muscles that Rachel can no longer use; carrying her across the floor in the wake of her failing legs, wiping the tears from her eyes in replace of an action that her own fingers can no longer perform.

Shelby hikes her daughter further upwards against her hip, she uses her sleeve to dab at her eyes, her running nose… Years of motherhood has left Shelby with a profound lack of concern towards things such as snot and tears lining the inside of her sleeves; she knows now, that it simply comes with the job.

Shelby has been told time and time again that cognitively, her daughter is still fully there; that the Rachel inside of her arms truly still is _her_ Rachel… Physical limitations simply keep her from currently expressing herself fully…

Lately, Shelby has found herself not entirely certain about this… From a doctor's perspective of course, Rachel is achieving nothing short of a miracle, considering science has told them that by now, she should be dead… But from a mother's perspective, every misstep, every time she watches her daughter struck with a new ailment, a new barricade, Shelby can only see herself growing further and further away from the truth.

And just when she thinks she's finally just as far as she can possibly get, something else strikes in an effort to remind her that it can only get worse from here.

Doctor's have set their goals, developed their plans… They predict that eventually, her speech will return to her, ninety percent… who knows, maybe even more. One day, in a few month's time, maybe even less, her facial muscles will strengthen to the point that she will gradually go back to being able to eat on her own… Physical therapist will do everything that they can for her arms, although this early in the game, they continue to claim that it's too soon to tell…

The emphasis now, was entirely focused on the idea that her legs aren't seemingly likely to regain so much as half the mobility that they had had previously; that there is a strong chance that Rachel will require braces, crutches, walkers… who knows, maybe even a wheelchair, for the rest of her life.

Shelby's eyes tear involuntarily; her daughter will never play the sports, she will never return to her coveted dance class, perform the lead at her recital… She may never become the Broadway star that she already dreams of being…

"Please give me something…" Shelby mutters loosely under her breath in an effort to reach for support from anybody that can possibly provide it to her at the moment…

"I'm sorry?"

Shelby jumps slightly; she hadn't heard the additional presence behind her. She turns abruptly, clutching Rachel instinctively closer into her chest in a measure of protection against the unseen harm, relaxing only upon finding a familiar face before her… Although the face is not one in which she is so thrilled to see… maybe she shouldn't let her guard down quite yet.

"Kathy, I'm sorry I… I didn't see you there."

Kathy Bates is the head of the financial services department at the facility that Rachel has since made her home… Upon being laid off a couple of weeks ago, Hiram and Shelby have had the unfortunate experience of spending a lot of their free time inside of this woman's office. She was kind enough to keep the Corcoran's increasingly aware of the idea that Hiram's diminishing severance package, alongside the dropping of their insurance policy has put no easy toll on the family's financial situation.

In a past life, Shelby Corcoran had been financially sound; even with two children and a nice house in the suburbs… Her previous successes as a Broadway breakout star had placed her family into a position where, with Hiram's job, Shelby wouldn't have to worry about having to go back to work until her kids were old enough to fare on their own for a couple of hours a day after school.

And then Rachel had gotten sick, and even with the most stable of insurance policies, month's worth of hospital stays, expensive drugs and around the clock care did not come cheap… It went without saying to state that Hiram's laying off had correlated alongside the worst possible time – Rachel's having spent three weeks in intensive care; a private room for half a month that cost more than their mortgage did in a year.

Long story short; they were screwed.

"It's fine, Shelby…" Kathy does not ask questions; Shelby is certain that this is only because she's afraid of their answers; Shelby wishes she could be so naïve. "I was actually looking to speak with you anyway."

"Something tells me that this isn't just a friendly visit…" Shelby smiles in an attempt to solidify the understanding that right now, if she doesn't laugh, she is going to cry. The woman before her does not reciprocate; instead, she refuses to interpret Shelby's statement rhetorically as Shelby had intended; she shakes her head solemnly.

"How bad is it?" Shelby's face turns downward immediately; she feels the tears burning inside of her eyes and finds herself having to put up a strong effort simply to keep them down.

"Shelby, I was looking through Rachel's file and it shows that neither you or your husband have made a payment in over a month…" She thumbs through the file, thick as a dictionary between her hands and Shelby finds herself clutching Rachel subconsciously closer, slipping the girl's head between the crook of her arm in an effort to prevent her from hearing the words as if the girl could have actually understood and interpreted them on her own. "It's the hospital's policy to inform a family that once their debt accumulates towards $100,000 or greater, a cap will be placed on your account… You are very close to reaching that cap, Shelby."

"Will you stop treating Rachel because of this?" The question is out of Shelby's mouth before she has the opportunity to process the scope of the announcement in its entirety; her subconscious desire to ensure her daughter's safety trumping her own monumental issues.

"Not entirely, no…" Shelby takes a deep sigh of relief until the idea that her words have not encompassed the entirety of her inquiry dips steeper through her thought process.

"Not entirely, what does that mean; not entirely?"

"It means that Rachel will continue to receive her chemotherapy treatments and possibly even radiation if and when that becomes necessary." Shelby's eyes narrow inwards towards the woman speaking to her as if she is her child's doctor rather than what Shelby knows she truly is; a hospital hired hit man, who gets paid to suck every penny of funding from a grieving parent's name, and to kick them to the curb once they can no longer provide. "Unfortunately, there are some procedures that she will no longer have access to should they become necessary without you opening up a cash account… procedures that are considered to be elective."

"Well what's considered elective?" Shelby attempts to hide her anger as she tries to prevent herself from losing control with her daughter inside of her arms that has so much more in this world to worry over having an upset mother…

"Bone marrow transplantation, which is a very likely course of action for somebody in your daughter's condition…" Kathy explains calmly; she is an expert, it seems on handling distraught parents who can never seem to catch a break in life, "Physical therapy… just for a few examples."

"Elective; how is this considered to be an elective?" Shelby is beyond the point of self control; her voice is elevated steadily and she knows it. The strangest part is that she doesn't seem to care anymore. "Are you telling me that you are willing to risk a four year old child dying simply because of things that are completely out of her control? My husband has just been laid off we are doing everything that we can right now… You don't have to treat us like some sort of charity case, we will get the money to you, we just have to dig ourselves out of this rut for now… Please, you can't give up on her, not when she's come so far…"

The tears have begun to make their way down the length of Shelby's cheeks so that she knows once they have started, there will be no way to ever stop them again…

She has failed her child; as her mother, she knows that it is her responsibility to give both of her children absolutely everything that they required to thrive… And now Rachel's progress could be halted over something so seemingly miniscule as compared to the potential consequences.

"What we're looking at right now is that your bills are sent into collection… Your family's credit will be deeply affected so that the properties that you do own will be at risk… your car, savings bonds, stocks… your home…"

"Oh God…" Shelby wishes that this woman would simply stop speaking already… Every time she opened her mouth just made it feel like she was being handing Shelby but one more punch to her gut… Shelby isn't certain how much more she can take.

"We've managed to schedule you and your husband in for a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss options if you'd like…"

"Um… yeah," Shelby agrees although she is not entirely certain why; she doesn't know what options that she does have to discuss… Everything is looking relatively bleak at the moment.

"Rachel has PT at 9:00… do you have anything after that?" Shelby wipes her eyes gently as she speaks through a series of deep breaths… She needs to pull herself together, she needs to understand that Rachel needs her mother stable and capable of making informed decisions right now.

"How is 10:30?"

"10:30…" Shelby breaths, trying to display a clear schedule across her mind, "Um… 10:30 is perfect."

"I'm sorry Shelby… I tried everything that I could." Kathy offers the young mother her apologies, but Shelby shrugs off the comforting hand that she places against her shoulder immediately… If anything, her words enrage Shelby even more.

"No, clearly you haven't," Shelby spits harshly, not even recognizing her own voice with this much animosity behind it, "You haven't or else I wouldn't have to be having a conversation with my four year old about why she might not survive because some rich, corporate prick isn't willing to lose his bonus to save my little girl's life!"

"Mrs. Corcoran, please…" She tries to calm the enraged mother, but experience should have taught her that there was no calming a woman whose child has just been put at risk…

Shelby suddenly wonders whether or not anybody has ever gotten physical against Kathy Bates before in her line of duty… Probably, because at the moment, it is taking everything in Shelby's will power not to grasp her hands around this woman's throat and positively throttle her.

It terrifies her to think that had Rachel not been tucked snugly inside of her arms, she very much so may have.

"No!" Shelby is very much so aware of the idea that her voice is carrying, attracting unwanted attention, but she doesn't care; it is almost comforting for her to know that her anger is currently being projected upon anybody within a floor of her. "Don't you dare tell me that; how about instead of offering me more of your bullshit, you look into my daughter's eyes and explain to her why it is that she no longer has a chance?"

Shelby makes the suggestion alongside the understanding that there is nothing more that Kathy will be able to do other than to stare down at Rachel, her terrified four year old who has never heard her mother raise her voice in such a manner in nothing other than absolute silence.

Shelby lingers; she glares downwards upon the slightly shorter woman until she knows that she has made the situation as awkward as humanly possible before turning away, no longer wanting to be here, no longer wanting to have to face these problems…

Shelby hikes her daughter higher upwards and into her arms as she turns her back dramatically; her heels clicking with a profound force with every exaggerated step that she takes down the length of the tile hall…

Rachel is silent inside of her arms although as she wraps her arms tighter around the back of Shelby's neck, she can't help but to feel that her small body is trembling against her own… She's scared, and suddenly, Shelby hates this woman even more.

Shelby keeps her head pointed firmly upwards in an effort to appear much more confident than what she is currently feeling… She can feel her eyes growing redder and redder as she continues in her attempt at containing her tears but still, they never fall…

There will be a time for Shelby to cry; now is not it

Shelby rounds into the bathroom and the second that the door closes behind her, concealing her into the safety of privacy, Shelby finds herself involuntarily faltering; her body physically falling forwards so that she finds herself having to flex in her arm muscles simply to ensure that Rachel remains secure inside of them.

A series of short, gruff sobs escape from the back of her throat despite her desperate attempts to contain them; it is only several seconds later that the tears actually begin to fall…

Shelby is more than aware of the idea that her daughter is currently here to witness her mother's very public breakdown, but the harder she tries to stop them, the more forcefully they seem to come.

Involuntarily, Shelby finds herself catching a glimpse of her own reflection from inside of the mirror… Not even she c an recognize her own bloodshot eyes on her own anymore although they have grown so commonplace these days that she knows she should.

"You're sad, momma?" Shelby chokes back her tears as her eyes glance downwards towards the daughter still cradled between her arms… Rachel tries to stretch her weakened neck muscles in an effort to look upwards towards her mother as Shelby silently responds by tilting her head downward to kiss the top of Rachel's bare head, trying to instill as much comfort into her ailing child as humanly possible.

"I am, Rachel…" Her voice shakes slowly… There was a time that Shelby would have denied this, that she would have done everything in her power in order to protect her children from the horrors of the world, but that time has since come and gone…

Shelby had known that it would not be possible for her to closet her children forever, but that hadn't made transition any easier…

"But Rachel honey, mommy is going to make this all better, alright?" Shelby professes boldly knowing all too well that it is a promise that she cannot ensure, "I promise, whatever happens that you will be okay…. I promise."

* * *

><p>It's starting to get dark later.<p>

Shelby can only hope that this is some symbolic transition, demonstrating the ending of what, without question has grown into the longest, coldest winter of human memory…

There is a window inside of her kitchen directly over the sink that is angled just perfectly westward in a means to remind her that it is already well past 6:30 and the sky is only now sinking into that dull, faded red that proceeds complete nightfall.

She stares outwards towards it under the impression that she can catch each movement of the sky against its steady transition, but her mind is much too distracted, her house too silent.

"Shelby…" Her ears pick up her sister's soft voice, but it is the first noise that she has heard in hours; she doesn't know how to respond anymore, so she doesn't.

Instead, she simply carries along staring; it's so much easier just to sit and watch the sky.

"Shelby!" The second time that Krista calls to her, her voice is accompanied by a sharp pain that radiates downwards through the length of her left index finger… Shelby jumps reflectively, her eyes darting towards the blood that drips steadily down the length of her finger, catching against the steep groves of her palm before staining against the cuff of her sweatshirt.

Her right hand moves instinctively in an effort to apply pressure against the gaping wound. The offending knife falls from her grasp with a clutter as the onion that she had seemingly forgotten that she had been cutting in her absentmindedness rolls across the ground unnoticed.

"Jesus Christ, Shelby, you're gonna cut your friggen finger off!" Krista scolds her older sister, but her voice is distinct with worry as she rushes to wrap a hand towel about Shelby's hand, causing the older woman to wince with pain as blood begins to seep immediately through the fabric.

"What's going on in your head, Shelby?" Krista sighs, forcing Shelby to cock her eyebrow towards her sister as she stares as if this has been the stupidest question that she has ever been addressed with.

"You know what I mean…" Krista corrects herself immediately, rolling her eyes against Shelby's literal interpretation of her inquiry…

She is right of course she is right, she's always right… Shelby knows exactly what her sister meant; she wants to know what happened to Shelby today that has made her so sheltered, so distant that she can't so much as cook a family dinner without spiraling straight to hell…

She considers her answer briefly; of course, at this point, it may be easier to tell her sister everything that isn't going through her mind rather than everything that is...

She doesn't even know where to begin… How is it possible to fully and accurately describe to the exact, the day that you realize that this purposeful life that you had previously all planned out for yourself was impossible now?

Shelby opens her mouth without purpose; her sister has set the stage for an extended rant and she is grateful to take it only when she does make the motion to speak, she emits nothing more than a strange sound; something between that of a choking grunt and a full sob that is almost immediately intercepted by the sound of the front door opening with a distinct bang.

"Hiram…." Shelby can hear her mother's cool greeting towards her husband from inside of the living room… Shelby's parents have not been particular fond of their son-in-law's actions as of late, and they have not been shy about being vocal towards their displeasure.

He responds with nothing more than a short snort; Hiram is drunk… again.

The scene has become much too commonplace since he had lost his job… These days it seems, he does nothing more than bury himself at the bottom of the bottle… He hasn't been to see Rachel in days, she doesn't even know the last time that he offered to pick up their son from school, took him to the park, so much as spoke to him…

The door slams shut behind Hiram with an aggressive slam, echoing in a manner that makes Shelby suddenly miss those days where he would bring the kids home from school, the days that they would be so excited to see her that they'd bang and clamor throughout the entire house… practically knock her down as they jumped on top of her with the impact of a speeding truck…

But that hadn't happened in a long time… it had been another life, Shelby reminds herself and almost immediately, she finds herself trying desperately to convince her that she's okay with it never coming back again.

She sees the way that her son looks at her now; her six year old falling away from her before she'd ever truly had the opportunity to grab on… Lately, he's been acting out by any means necessary, simply to find an opportunity to catch an ounce of his parent's attention… And there was absolutely no one in this world to blame other than herself, Shelby knows.

Rachel… Rachel couldn't even so much as walk anymore, let alone run… And besides, the only thing that got her daughter excited these days was when she woke up without her chemotherapy treatments leaving her too sick to so much as move…

It was difficult to belong to a family that was so far removed… Shelby has found herself grasping onto them by mere hairs… but even that can last for so long when there is no reciprocation involved.

"Noah, come on son… Let's go upstairs and get your new baseball mitt; maybe we can have a little catch before dinner." Shelby can hear her father's attempts towards steering Noah from the line of fire of his drunken father… Shelby is grateful, but at the same time, she knows that Hiram would never accept his actions in his stupor.

"Hey!" His words are slurring violently and Shelby finds herself closing her eyes in her embarrassment, her cheeks flushing towards her husband's actions as she prays to God for this to just simply go away.

She has learned to know better, however, than to bank on the success of prayer.

"He is not your son; you have no right to call him that!" Hiram's voice is elevating, and with its volume, exemplifies its distinct lack of articulation. "Stay away from my kid, alright? Come on, Noah, we're leaving…"

Shelby's heart constricts violently in her chest as she hears the familiar jingling of Hiram's car keys… Adrenaline pours into her veins; Hiram is trying to steer Noah towards the direction of his car… It was a miracle that he had made it home alive from the bar to begin with; there is no way in hell that Shelby is willing to so much as consider this…

"You need to sleep this off, Hiram…" Shelby vaguely catches her mother's attempt towards reasoning with Hiram as she sprints the short distance from the kitchen into the living room. "You are not getting behind the wheel of a car right now, not with my grandson with you…"

"Hiram!" Shelby intervenes, making her presence known before this conversation turned even sourer than it already was… She has, however, no follow up rather than her single expression of disappointment towards her husband… Just like that, she is out of things to say.

She misses Hiram – the Hiram that she used to know, anyway - but mostly, at this moment, she misses his uncanny ability to come up with just the right thing to say, to do… That is until distance had ripped them further and further away from one another.

"Shelby, what happened to you?" Her mother finds herself torn between addressing her incapacitated son-in-law, and her clearly injured daughter… Shelby had almost forgotten all about the bloodied makeshift bandage wrapped precariously about her index finger… She couldn't even feel it anymore…

She couldn't feel anything anymore.

"It's fine, mom." Shelby waves off her mother quickly; there were far more important things to concern themselves with at this moment. "Will you please take Noah to the park for a couple of minutes?"

"Shelby…" Her mother eyes her with concern but once again, Shelby merely waves her off as if her concern is unwarranted, although Shelby knows just as much as the rest of them do that it is.

"Mom…" Shelby is practically begging, and she hates to do so, but she truly hopes that her mother will pick up on the hint, "Please…"

"Okay." Crystal Berry nods in her final agreement, but her extended silence is enough to inform Shelby that she is not fond of the idea. "Come on, Noah."

Shelby doesn't move about her shuffling family as her mother shuttles her son out of the front door quickly, followed immediately by her father and sister, who eyes her with one last nod o f concern before she closes the door behind her, leaving Shelby lingering directly across from Hiram, still stuck motionless in his stupor against the living room floor.

She waits several tense seconds to speak, and in her silence, she begs her mind to settle, to formulate an appropriate intervention that can allow her to express towards Hiram, exactly what it is that he is doing to her; just how much that he is killing her with each passing day of this…

This can't happen anymore; not when they need him the most.

The voice inside of her head is repeating in an incessant loop, trying desperately to convince her to hate him, but suddenly, she can't bring herself to hate anybody right now other than herself… It clouds her judgment, fogs her memory, and finally, devoid of all voluntary control, she speaks…

"What are you doing, Hiram?" She is abrupt, insistent from the beginning….. She knows that she can no longer rely on her usual method of simply skimming past the writing on the wall. She was sick of being lost, sick of that embarrassing, sinking feeling for the whole lot of them swelling inside of the very pit of her stomach.

"What do you want from me, Shelby?" Hiram mutters gently, falling backwards into the couch. "My daughter is dying."

It is the one trigger that Shelby is truly looking for, the one excuse that she needs to lose what little cool that she had left… It was the one excuse for her to take the past three months of pent up anger and aggression towards the world out onto the one person that knows exactly how she is feeling in this moment.

"My daughter is dying too, Hiram!" She screams so loud that she is certain that the neighbors can hear… She can only hope that her parents and sister have shuttle Noah far enough away by now for him to have missed it… "You're not the only person going through this! You need to start thinking of our kids, Hiram."

"I do think about our kids!" He rises to his feet as he shoots his reply back towards her harshly. His volume matches that of his wife's, if not beyond… "I think about them every second of everyday… What the hell do you think made me like this!"

"What are you doing, Hiram…" Her voice sinks quiet as she repeats her original statement. She can't tell whether this is because she is finally defeated, or if it is because the tears – seemingly endless today – have begun to swell into her sinus passages, diminishing an effective means by which she can yell.

"I'm seeing somebody."

Shelby's blood runs cold as she freezes on the spot… What beginnings of tears that she did have inside of her eyes rush back into her throat alongside an involuntary gasp that nearly chokes her.

"I'm sorry?" She asks him to repeat himself despite the fact that she knows that she has heard him clearly… She isn't entirely certain why it is that she is doing this to herself. After all, she knows that the only thing that can result from her hearing him say it once more is even more pain than what is already radiating across her chest.

She is almost grateful that he knows enough to respond to her in silence.

"Who is she?" Her voice distends gradually from a sorrowful shock to pure, unadulterated anger that is bubbling at the surface, preparing to erupt into a rage that even she is growing fearful of.

She glares at her husband… if looks could only kill. She wants answers, but at the same time, she doesn't want to hear the truth… She wants to hear nothing more than for Hiram to tell her that she had mistaken, that she had heard him wrong, that everything was going to be find… even if she does know that this is impossible now.

"Shelby…"

"No!" Her anger is eliminating her subconscious's push towards denial, "Is this what you have been doing all day while I'm in the hospital with Rachel? Is this what you do while our daughter tries to relearn how to walk, how to talk… how to fucking breathe on her own for God's sake? Tell me the truth, Hiram… Is this why you leave me alone every time Noah's principal calls to tell me that he's acting up in school again? Are you trying to tell me that while I have been running around like a lunatic trying to hold onto our family for dear life, you have been getting drunk and sleeping with some stupid whore!"

"Shelby, listen to me…"

"Who is she Hiram?" Shelby cuts him off, she is not willing to give him an opportunity to make excuses, "I want to know… I want to know, and I want you to stop only telling me what you think that I want you to hear, what you think that I can take. Tell me the fucking truth for once in your life, Hiram, please!"

"His name is David," Hiram nods in acceptance towards Shelby's refusal to allow him to beat around the bush… His voice is clear, it is confident when he speaks, and to Shelby, this only makes things worse.

"Oh my God…" She murmurs against her tears, springing to life upon Hiram's revelation as her hands fly to her face in an immediate effort to cover them, to prevent giving him the benefit of the doubt of seeing her so vulnerable; because just when she was prepared to believe that her life could get no worse than this, it had come around once more and stabbed her directly in the back.

"I'm gay, Shelby…" He stares into her eyes and she reciprocates; he can see his reflection shining against the tears as she shakes her head slowly… He falsely interprets her silence as a plea for him to further his explanation. "I've… I've known forever, I just…"

_Forever_; Shelby tries desperately to interpret the meaning of the word… _"Love rejoices in the right, it bears, believes, hopes and endures all things, for love is faithful and endless… forever."_

It was a wedding prayer that seems so distant now… It has been so long since forever was more than just a term but a promise… Now every time Shelby heard it, she would think of nothing more than the smile hiding the secret that he never wanted anybody to see, the point that he was trying to make, although suddenly, Shelby can't really see that point at all.

"Get out." Shelby stops him before he has the opportunity to twist the knife even further into her gut…

"Shelby, I…" He stutters against his words; she wonders if he simply believed that this bubble would simply never burst, although they all know that things had a tendency of catching up with them all eventually… She wonders how long the truth would have taken should Rachel have never gotten sick, should Noah have grown so rebellious, Hiram so impossibly despondent.

It doesn't matter, Shelby attempts to convince herself; either way, it has proven to be a tragic means by which to fall.

"Get out!" Shelby repeats, turning savage the second she sees Hiram's refusal to comply to her initial request… She looks crazy, she knows that she must; her eyes alone practically push him towards the door, but still, for added affect, she gives him a forceful shove anyway.

His head is hung in his shame, as if there was any other means by which he should feel… Shelby finds herself unsympathetic; she hopes that he is painfully ashamed, she hopes that he is just as embarrassed as she is for dedicating the past decade of her life towards a man too much of a coward to tell her the truth…

He stampedes out of the front door; she doesn't care that he is drunk, she doesn't care that he shouldn't be driving, she doesn't even care if he kills himself along the way…

"Get the fuck out of my house, Hiram!" She is following him in a series of furious motion, trailing at his heels as he rushes towards the door. "I never want to see you around me or my kids ever again, do you hear me? I want a divorce!"

She doesn't even realize that the front door has already been open until Hiram is already gone and the dust has finally settled about the trembling child lingering frightened from inside of the doorway.

"Oh my God, Noah…" Shelby's guard drops immediately as her guard drops dramatically the instant that she lays eyes on her son, arms linked by the wrist around his back, face pointed downward with tears dripping steadily against the concrete below… "Noah honey, come here."

She ducks into a squat and pulls Noah into her arms… She hates herself when she feels his body flinch backwards and away from hers out of fear, but she is grateful that this doesn't last; he sinks straight back into the familiar skin before too long…

"I forgot my baseball…" Noah sniffles into her sleeve; he can feel the tears soaking through to her skin immediately…

"Shh… it's okay, baby…" Shelby coos the boy gently, rocking him against her body; amazed even with herself for just how quickly her mood can change; her priorities, her attention…

Because as much as she hates Hiram at this moment, and as much as she is considering what a monumental waste the entirety of her life has been thus far, she can't help but to be reminded that if anything, Hiram had given her the most important two things in her entire life; her children…

And for that, she could never be disappointed.

"Shelby, I'm so sorry, Noah got away from us, we tried to catch up to him…" She can hear the pounding footsteps; her sister's frantic voice as it barrels towards her, "Oh my God what happened? Are you okay?"

Shelby can hear her, she can register her concern, but she can't bring herself to respond at this moment… She wants to focus on her son, she needs to focus on her son, as she hasn't – she feels – been doing enough lately.

"Come on, Noah…" Shelby shakes her sister off gently with a curt shake of the head, lifting the boy into the air in an effort to bring this very public demonstration back into the privacy of their broken home…

"You said a bad word, momma…" Noah sniffles into her shoulder as he clasps his body further into his own and holds on tighter, despite his current scolding of her, "I heard it…"

"I know, I know I did baby, I'm sorry…" Shelby apologizes gently, "Momma's sorry."

"Where did daddy go?" Shelby chooses to duck her son's head deeper in her shoulder strictly so that he can't see the handful of stray, silent tears slip from her eyes as she shakes her head gently back and forth.

"I don't know." She answers him truthfully, wishing nothing more than for it to be possible for him to understand the exact depth of what it is that she means when she tells him just how much she wishes that she could find her sudden stranger of a husband, heal her ill daughter, recover her estranged son…

And to remember that your home is always where you make it; even if these days, she is finding herself growing increasingly confused.

* * *

><p><strong>Gleek30<strong>**: Gahh, sorry I missed you last time I feel bad! I'm glad you enjoyed it, I always feel bad posting past chapters, but it's leading up to something that is going to be pretty important come the future. Past chapters are going to be fewer and further between coming up though. Rachel's POV will come up within the next one or two chapters, and after her Noah will be telling the glee club , so soon!**

**SolemnxHypnotic**** – Yay! I'm glad you're alive, I feel your struggle, my computer has official shit the bed so I'm struggling to catch up too. I'm sorry that I made you cry though! I love writing cute Noah so I'm glad you enjoy him, and I'm def routing for Rachel too, but I promise there won't be too much Finchel, just a little, and Noah will not be pleased about it but Rachel still is a teenage girl after all :) Don't be too mad at Santana, she will be redeemed!**

**Baygirl123**** – I'm glad you enjoyed! Thanks for the review!**

**Ballerina03**** – Aww yay! Thanks for readin, there will be more Noah action coming up next chapter, promise! No need to apologize ever, thanks for the review!**

**Amy**** – Thank you!**

**Readerforlife**** – Yay, I'm glad!**

**Amandaes417**** – Glad you enjoyed, thank you so much for the beautiful review!**


	24. Shelby Corcoran November 2011 Part II

**Hello, all! I tried to get this guy up a bit quicker, I've been using a lap top I'm borrowing from school for its software at the moment and get to do this on the side. **

**This chapter's a bit of a doozy, I got a bit carried away with it… just started writing and couldn't really stop so I kept going… It's just a little over 11,000 words, so for all of you who like long chapters, this is dedicated to you! It's also a bit more dialogue based than the last couple have been, I decided to switch it up a little bit so I hope you enjoy. As always endless thanks for all of your remarkable words and reviews and kindness… I have endless amounts of love for you all! **

* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – November 2011  
><em>(Part II)<em>

* * *

><p>She doesn't know how to possibly begin to explain to them, the idea of why it is that sometimes this world has to hurt more than you think that you could ever possibly handle.<p>

When she sees her son slipping out of his bedroom, mere moments following her leaving her daughter soundly asleep in her own bed following Rachel's crying herself soundly to sleep, she can barely even recognize him anymore… Hell, she can barely recognize any of them anymore.

There are hours before school even starts; a half an hour, at least, before she's scheduled to enter Noah's bedroom in an effort to drag him kicking and screaming from beneath his covers in order to ensure that his arrival at school is at least almost on time.

She hadn't planned on his going to school today… Hell, she hadn't planned on much of anything save for the handful of errands that she would inevitably have to run in an effort to plan the halting of their lives once more…

But as Noah slings his backpack over his shoulder, trying desperately to avoid making eye contact with his mother, it appears as if he has already made other plans, and on top of that, that his mother has seemingly ruined his attempts towards sneaking quietly out the back…

Shelby can't help but to realize that her son is no longer that six year old boy standing proudly upon the mattress of his racecar bed adorned in under-sized pajamas as he proclaims the promise, that he will one day become his sister's hero…

He's changed much too much since then… They all have.

"Where are you going?" She watches as he inhales steeply in his disappointment regarding having been caught; clearly, he had been hoping to avoid confrontation.

"School," He shrugs simply, turning to face her only briefly, just long enough for her to register the idea that he seems to be barely put together; uncharacteristic of her son, who normally cares for his appearance more than even the two females that he lives with… "I have glee."

"Glee isn't for another hour." Shelby exclaims the obvious; an idea that they both know to be true despite the fact that Noah clearly had been banking on his mother letting it slide…

"Yeah well, I have to go to the store first…" He comes up with the poorly initiated lie on the fly, and Shelby forces herself to bite her tongue against calling him back. "I'll see you later, mom."

"Noah," She ignores the overbearing mother alert screaming at her just to let him go… It's day three and she is already seeing her children slip steadily further and further away from her… She refuses to allow this to happen; not again, not like last time.

He pauses in his motions, turning his head meagerly about his shoulder in an effort to look towards her with his soft, grey eyes that Shelby loved so much because of the means by which they mirrored his father's to the exact, providing her with the sense that everything was going to be okay… even if it was a false sense.

"I love you…" She chances, watching with relief as his expression softens with her words, his body visibly relaxing as the corner of his lips tilt upwards and he offers her a soft nod in return…

"Love you too, ma…" He reciprocates, "I'll see you later."

His back is turned away and out the front door before Shelby can so much as consider a means by which she might be able to stop him.

* * *

><p>She's so used to placing visits to the principal's office at William McKinley High School only after Figgins has already called to inform her that her son has once again, gotten into some sort of trouble, that she places her guard on red alert the second that she steps through the doors.<p>

She finds her head swiveling subconsciously about the halls in an effort to catch a glimpse of a familiar face… She looks for Noah, whom she hasn't seen since his abrupt departure earlier that morning, and truthfully, doesn't expect to now…

In the midst of her search, she somehow manages to procure a glimmering display of blissful naivety that has her actually looking for Rachel, despite the idea that she knows her daughter to be currently tucked safely inside of her sister's care.

She sees a handful of her son's friends, those that she can never find herself remembering by name, but by face alone lingering in a bunch alongside their Cheerio girlfriends in the corner… She searches the small crowd, but quickly identifies that her son is not amongst them.

Shelby pretends to ignore the worry towards the threat of all of the progress that her son has made in the past years; the idea that the steep slope that he'd had to climb in order to get to where he was today was in danger now that Rachel was so sick once more…

The last thing that this family needs right now is yet another barricade to cross, Shelby knows this, and she knows that Noah does too… Some things however – she knows that they both know – are just unpreventable.

She isn't entirely surprised when she finds herself rounding a corner only to crash directly into an unsuspecting body…

She feels the papers scattering towards the ground as they fall towards her feet, and a warm, wet liquid that strikes her mid thigh before dripping uncomfortably down the length of her stocking covered legs; telling her without her even having to look that she has just been doused with a fresh cup of hot coffee…

It is a minor disappointment that she simply does not have the energy to worry herself over.

Instead, she simply raises her head tall, prepared to dish out a quick, half-assed apology for her head being so high up inside of the clouds when she is stopped; silenced by the appearance of a familiar face…

"Will…"

"Shelby…" The man professes; clearly he's surprised to have seen the head of his rival glee club strolling through his hallways… even if she was the mother of his two best students, "God I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there; are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Shelby assures him, attempting to mop the coffee from her leg with the sleeve of her blazer. "I'm sorry Will… I've kind of been a space cadet all weekend long."

"Yeah… No, it's fine, I mean… how's Rachel doing?" He waves off her apology quickly, "We're starting to miss her in glee already."

"She's hanging in there, thanks…" Shelby nods, appreciative of the well needed tone of support, even when coming from somebody as good as a stranger, "Things are just pretty hectic right now… I just had a meeting with Figgins to get Rachel set up to be tutored a couple of times a week, and you know, I'm sure that she wouldn't mind a visit from all of her friends in a few days… I mean… I know that they were all in the emergency room with her on Saturday but never got a chance to see her… Maybe once she gets settled in with her starting chemotherapy tomorrow and all, she might…"

"Wait, what?" Will silences her ramblings unintentionally; his eyes widening as if he is struggling to comprehend a statement that can't possibly be real, "Shelby, did you just say chemotherapy?"

"Noah didn't tell you…" Shelby breathes, eyes widening with the realization towards just what a truly awkward place that she has just placed herself within, "I thought… I thought for sure that he would have mentioned it at rehearsal this morning…"

"Noah wasn't at rehearsal this morning… or in my first period Spanish class for that matter." Will shakes his head quickly, urging Shelby for a more hurried explanation towards a reaction that he clearly had not been expecting. "I just figured that… that he was with you and Rachel… Shelby what is going on?"

Shelby begins to falter visibly as the nerves sink into the innermost depths of her body… She's playing with her fingers nervously, crumpling her coffee-soaked sleeves into her palms as a thin layer of sweat begins to break out along her forehead.

Her son was missing; that is basically what Will has just told her… He hadn't seen him… she wonders if anybody has… She knows more than anybody else that Noah has a notorious reputation for blowing off steam by disappearing for hours on end, but at the moment, she can't help but to want to keep her children as close to her as humanly possible.

Even if they weren't exactly children any longer.

"Will…" She falters; Shelby has no idea how to proceed along with this conversation; it only makes it worse upon forcing her to acknowledge the idea that that there are still so many people left to tell… "I'm not sure if you know this… whether or not Noah or Rachel has ever mentioned it before, but, um… when Rachel… when Rachel was younger, when she was four, she had… she had cancer; ALL… it's a type of leukemia, common in children."

"Shelby, I had no idea…" Will's jaw drops, his mouth dangling open in his shock as he shakes his head slightly in his disbelief towards the matter as a whole, "Is it… does she… is she"

"It's back," Shelby interrupts his confused ramblings with a stiff nod, confirming the words that Will can't seem to find on his own at the moment.

"Shelby," He breathes; he doesn't know what else to say; they never do. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be," She shakes him off; an orchestrated, pre-planned response that she has grown all too accustomed do delivering. "It's not your fault…"

"It's not yours either." Shelby pauses; she's used to these types of conversation, but not this; not this assurance, this boost of confidence that she has been so aching to hear ever since her children were young, her husband left her to raise them alone…

Shelby has nothing but guilt.

"Thank you," She murmurs softly, Will offering his reciprocation in a short, sad smile before she simply shrugs it off all together.

"So it's… it's treatable, right?" Will asks cautiously, as if afraid of the answer. "The cancer, I mean…"

"It has a relatively high remission rate, with the chemo, yeah…" Shelby's answer appears much too robotic to be entirely believable.

"Good…" Will attempts to sound enthusiastic, but he catches the misstep behind Shelby's voice and just can't bring himself to do so in its entirety. 'That is good, right?"

"Her doctor's are a little bit concerned that because it's a relapse, it might not be enough…" Shelby voices her greatest of concerns aloud for the first time since Rachel's doctor had expressed it to her in the confines of her solitude late on Saturday night, and although she isn't entirely certain why it is she has chosen William Schuester of all people as her outlet, she is grateful for the opportunity to have done so. "But we're gonna do everything that we can… Rachel is a fighter."

"She is…" Will nods in his genuine agreement, "Besides, she'd never let anything stop her from getting to Broadway, not now…"

Shelby can only nod her head… There are tears welling inside of her eyes all over again, and the only thing that she can think of is how mortified Noah will be should his friends approach him later that evening only to inform him that they'd seen his mother crying in the middle of the hallway at his high school while talking to his glee coach…

"Listen…" Will speaks up quickly, clearly registering with the idea that the woman before him was beginning to grow emotional. "I know that everything at Regionals was kind of a mess, but… well, congratulations on your victory anyway…"

"We won?" Shelby gapes; she hadn't even considered Regionals, had all but forgotten that that had been the stage that this entire mess had been seated upon. "I didn't even… Nobody told me…"

The revelation of her being kept entirely in the dark doesn't particularly surprise her… Shelby has the strangest feeling that this has more to do with her choosing to ignore every and any phone call that has come her way in these past couple of days, but this, she chooses not to mention.

"Yeah," Will breathes awkwardly; clearly he has just – once again – treaded upon ground that Shelby had not been prepared to swallow. "I um… I heard that Sue Sylvester of all people was the only judge that fought to allow New Directions the chance to perform again… Apparently everybody else just thought that it was all… I don't know… that it was all just a stunt."

Will chooses his words carefully, but Shelby's eyes still can't help but to narrow with rage… a stunt?

Shelby isn't sure which she perceives as more shocking; the idea that anybody could ever see this as having been staged or the idea that Sue Sylvester, who hated the Corcoran family more than any other, strictly for her son's frequent delinquencies, had defended Rachel…

"Sue Sylvester?" Shelby breathes, deciding to focus upon Will's latter comment rather than the former for fear of the hidden anger that sometimes, not even she can anticipate emerging. "This weekend really was straight out of the Twilight Zone, wasn't it?"

"Yeah…" Will nods in his agreement; he tries to laugh, but it's just too forced to be entirely believable. "Yeah, it was."

She's tired of settling for unavoidable silence, but more often than not these days, she finds herself approaching a point in conversation in which she can't think of anything else to do… It tends to filter gradually inward, festering uncomfortably until it practically forces everybody in its path to stop in whatever it was that they were previously doing in order for them to positively cringe in response…

It's only a matter of time before her fellow conversationalist is clawing their way for an excuse just to get away… Shelby doesn't blame them one bit; she only wishes that she could do the same.

"Listen Shelby, I have to get to class," Right on time, Shelby thinks although she doesn't outwardly express this; instead, she merely nods alongside the understanding that she could never truly blame him. "But let Rachel know that I'm thinking about her, okay?"

"I will…" Shelby nods alongside the promise that she has every intention upon keeping.

"They're great kids, Shelby, both of them." He deviates from the normal routine of one parting ways with her… Instead of speeding away from an already awkward conversation, he offers to her one final measure of assurance alongside a soft hand against her shoulder… "Rachel will be okay, Noah too… And if not, they'll have the entire glee club there to route them on."

Shelby doesn't respond verbally; she can't physically bring herself to offer to him anything more than a short head nod before he's turned away from her, headed down the length of the hallway and almost out of sight before a final thought sparks its way inside of her thoughts.

"Will!" She calls back to him before he can disappear entirely… He turns back towards her just before he can turn the corner, about facing in an effort to advance a couple of steps closer towards her in an indicative motion for her to continue on speaking.

"Can you just do me one favor?" She asks.

"Of course," Will reciprocates with a short nod.

"I think… I think that Rachel and Noah would prefer to tell the rest of the glee club themselves." In all honesty, Shelby has no idea whether or not these truly are her children's intentions, but she decides to leave the decision up to them… She has the strangest feeling that they wouldn't particularly enjoy being bombarded by their teammates' obvious inquires unannounced, "If you don't mind waiting to tell them…"

"Of course," Will nods alongside a soft smile in an effort to confirm that his words are true before he disappears with one final wave…

This time, she doesn't call him back… she doesn't have anything left to say.

She is more than ready to leave; she wants to get out of this God awful school, get back home to her daughter, try and locate her supposedly missing son, but the second that she makes the move to turn, she is halted by yet another familiar face… albeit a much less inviting one.

She recognizes the fluorescent orange matching track suit before she does the actual, distinguishing features of the woman glaring at her from beyond the corner of the corridor that Will had just recently disappeared beyond, and the second that she does, her brain immediately begins screaming at her to run in the exact opposite direction…

Shelby simply cannot deal with Sue Sylvester at the moment.

She understands that Sue doesn't particularly get along with anybody, but Shelby feels that her and the notorious coach's personalities simply tend to clash particularly hard…

It didn't help that Shelby was more than certain that Sue had called her probably more times than any of the other parents at William McKinley combined due to her son's inability to behave.

And suddenly, she can't help but to remember what Will had told her about the woman mere moments ago now…

"_I heard that Sue Sylvester of all people was the only judge that fought to allow New Directions the chance to perform again."_

The thought alone practically stops her in her tracks on its own accord…

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare all day Broadway Burnout, or are you gonna keep on walking?"

"Sue," Shelby rolls her eyes as she offers the woman a more traditional form of greeting before making the motion to duck quickly from beyond Sue's line of fire…

She is inches from freedom, inches from not having to face what was just about the last thing that she could possibly handle facing right now – Sue Sylvester's taunting – when she feels the hand clasp firmly against her shoulder, stiffening about the joint as it offers a gentle tug that pulls Shelby back almost immediately.

She can feel her head beginning to swell painfully as she turns back in an effort to face the infamous Cheerio's head coach…

"Listen Sue," Her voice chokes as she speaks, "I'm not really in the mood today, so please –"

"I heard you talking with Brillo Head…" Shelby's body stiffens automatically as she grows naturally defensive towards the idea of Sue eavesdropping upon a conversation that she was clearly not supposed to hear… She straightens herself in an act of confidence that she knows she simply does not possess at the moment… Whatever Sue has to dish out to her, she attempts to convince herself, Shelby is prepared for it.

"I'm very sorry… about Rachel, I mean…"

Shelby swallows, her pre-prepared words choking somewhere within the center of her throat until they are lost in their entirety in an act of pure shock alone, towards this very uncharacteristic move as made by the most notorious woman to have ever walked the halls of William McKinley High School…

And for the first time in the entirety of her life, Shelby looks into Sue Sylvester's eyes, and she actually notices them for the stunning shade of blue that they are, as opposed to the glowering red that she normally perceives them as.

"Rachel is a good kid; she's stronger than people give her credit for… She'll be okay."

The remarkably taller blonde turns away before Shelby has the opportunity to procure a response, but still, the woman is certain that even had Sue chosen to have stuck around longer, Shelby still wouldn't have managed to produce words in response to Sue's incredulous statement…

Shelby finds herself stunned positively stupid in her response… She is stunned by Sue's display of an apparent heart, she is stunned by this sudden outpouring of support swarming towards her from all different directions…

And most strikingly, she is stunned by the idea that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have to be as alone in all of this as she had found herself previously believing…

* * *

><p>Her head is beginning to hurt.<p>

The dim lighting reflecting the silent family room and her glasses – required for her to read despite the fact that they made her head spin upon looking into the distance – in combination with the medical bills, already beginning to pour in from Rachel's emergency room visit on Saturday, displayed before her ensure the beginnings of a headache that Shelby is certain would not be willing to part ways with her any time soon…

Her home is unusually silent for it being so early in the evening on a weekday…

Usually by this time, Shelby has already begun flittering through her plethora of takeout menus, deciphering her dinner options, Noah is just dragging his pungent, muddy body home from football practice and Rachel is sitting upstairs in her room rehearsing her latest glee routine until Shelby was forced to knock on her daughter's door in order to remind her that come nine o'clock, the neighbors are able to call the police to report a noise complaint…

Shelby has never heard of anybody ever getting a headache from too much silence before, but she knows as well as anybody that there is a first time for anything… Besides, she knows that truly, the silence is not the exact cause of her discomfort, not nearly as much as the worry has been anyway…

Nobody, it seems, has seen or heard from her son since her brief interaction with him this morning at the crack of dawn…

Shelby had tried calling him until her fingers were sore with so much repetitive dialing, but it was of no use; his cell phone was turned off…

She tried desperately to convince herself that now was not the time to worry, not yet anyway… He was just blowing off steam, just as Krista had assured her earlier that afternoon…

But of course, her current predicament has her tension already running naturally high…

She was minutes away from calling the police… Even if it was too early for them to file a missing persons report on Noah, at the very least, maybe she would be able to have them bring the paddy wagon to come and take her away.

The sound of the front door swinging abruptly open filters across Shelby's senses but still, the woman doesn't allow her hopes to elevate too high… Krista had left to pick the family up something to eat nearly twenty minutes ago now; she was due back any moment…

No, Shelby is not expecting to see her son any time soon, as much as she may want to.

It makes the relief that much more profound when she distinguishes upon a heavy shuffling of footsteps that cannot possibly have come from her sister; half the size of even herself…

"Noah!" Shelby darts upwards from her seat, cursing to herself as her knees strike painfully against the underside of her desk, scattering its contents unorganized about the carpeted floor… Shelby ignores the pain, instead jogs towards the front door where she catches a glimpse of hers on immediately looking much like he had when he had left her this morning; twelve hours that seemed like twelve years.

"Where have you been?" She rushes towards him before he so much as has the opportunity to settle, charging forward where she wraps her son into her arms, faltering beneath the excitement of relief so that for a brief second, she almost forgets just how angry she is with him for disappearing in the first place.

She's pleased when he doesn't immediately pull away as she knows he may have in a time not too long ago, but instead, holds on alongside the understanding that this is simply what she needs in this moment.

"I got an interesting phone call this morning…" Shelby pulls away from her son, her relief dissipating into pure, unadulterated anger as the adrenaline of her relief begins to die down alongside the realization of just how angry she truly was with her son for continuously keeping her on her heels in her worry, "Apparently, Mr. Schuester missed you at the glee rehearsal that you seemed so adamant about being on time for this morning… Then all of your teachers seemed to have also missed your presence in their classes as well… Even Coach Tanaka thought to give me a call in order to inform me that my son has seemingly learned how to make himself invisible today…"

"Mom…" Noah breathes steeply, but Shelby stops him n the midst of his excuses with a single, silencing finger.

"I don't want any excuses, Noah," She informs him in a strictly straight forward manner, "I can't do this right now, not again, not ever, do you hear me? I have enough to deal with trying to get your sister sorted out right now without you running off, skipping school, spending your day doing God only knows what and not even having the decency to answer your clearly frantic mother's phone calls when she calls you a hundred times in a row."

Shelby eyes her son with that all-knowing expression that she knows Noah to know all too well and watches him as he physically falters underneath so much as her mere gaze…

"Noah, I know that this sucks, okay…" Her voice softens exponentially upon her son's refusal to respond… Tears well immediately inside of Shelby's eyes but she sucks them back down… Not for the first time today, does she realize that her own strength is the absolute foundation for that of her children's. "I know that it's hard and I'm sorry that you have to go through this all over again, but please… we need to work together on this one, okay?"

"I'm sorry…" He sighs, tilting his head upwards towards his mother in an effort to offer her his pained expression of remorse.

"Don't be," She shakes her head quickly, apologetic towards making Noah as if she were anything more than simply worried about him, "It's hard to remember that you're not six years old this time around…" Shelby sighs in her willingness to negotiate. "How about we make each other a deal to cut one another some slack, okay?"

"Okay…" Noah nods in his distinct agreement towards this compromise.

"Where have you been all day, anyway?" She filters flawlessly into asking the obvious, emphasizing the idea that when she says 'cutting Noah some slack' she doesn't mean allowing him to disappear at all hours of the day without her knowledge of his whereabouts.

"Nowhere, really…" He shrugs, "I've just been driving around all day, trying to clear my head… The only thing that I really ended up doing was driving in circles… All I could concentrate on is how messed up my head has been."

Shelby sighs alongside his admittance… He sounds so young, so upset, much too sad for an eighteen year old boy with the absolute world ahead of him… Shelby can't ignore her son any longer, she can't allow caring for Rachel to override the care that she would easily argue, her son will need just as much as her daughter in these upcoming months…

"Come on," She offers her son the slightest of nudges towards the direction of the family room, "I think that it's about time that we had a talk, Noah."

"This isn't going to be one of those awkward moments where you try and make this as much of a father-son talk as we can possibly have, is it mom?" Noah attempts to lighten the mood alongside the acknowledgment that things were about to take a turn towards the very serious, "Because mom, I still haven't forgotten that sex talk that you tried to have with me when I was thirteen…"

"I'm afraid so, kid," She prepares him for the worst, wrapping her arm across the shoulder of her much taller son as she guides him down onto the couch, "I'll try and avoid all of the birds and the bee's talks this time around though."

"I appreciate it…" He smiles although the humor has lost its distinct touch; he is passed the point of trying to convince himself that is mother is not looking for him to spill his heart out to her at the moment.

"I need you to talk to me though, Noah…" She nods towards him, confirming his initial suspicions with one, single sentence. "I know that this isn't easy for you so tell me… Where has your head been?"

"Everywhere…" He sighs in his emphasis towards the idea that he has no idea where it is that he should begin.

"Well we've got all night," She shrugs, leaning backwards against the couch before crossing her right leg across her left in an emphasis towards the idea that she is willing to wait as long as was necessary to hear him out.

"I don't know…" He sighs; opening up to his mother on his own accord, reflecting Shelby's unique ability to force her children into speaking honestly with her without them even realizing that she was doing it. "With everything going on with school and football and now Rachel… I don't really know how to feel to be honest with you… I don't think that I've really had the time to settle down long enough to figure that out yet."

"Yeah, I know what you mean…" She nods softly, praying to God that he can understand just how much she truly means exactly what she is telling him.

"I broke up with Santana…" He admits out of the blue, and Shelby's face drops sympathetically

"Oh honey, I'm sorry…" She swallows alongside the understanding that this weekend had not been one particularly healthy for relationships, "If it makes you feel any better, I broke up with Ryan…"

"Yeah, I figured after all of the crap that he pulled on Saturday…" Shelby swallows heavily; she chooses not to think about having been left behind inside of the ER by her boyfriend while she waited on the fate of her daughter… She tries to make it by, by telling herself that she's better off on her own anyway. "You know ma, I never did like him… as long as we're being honest with each other, here."

"Yeah," Shelby nods, laughing slightly alongside the admittance of her son's not so hidden secret as he places a gentle, comforting arm about her shoulder and pulls her in closer, "Yeah I didn't think so… I know that it couldn't have been easy on you kids with… with…"

She drifts off; Noah understands exactly which direction that she is currently trying to steer them in; simultaneously breaking their unspoken agreement never to discuss Hiram, or how he related towards their feelings…

"So," Shelby chimes in with an abrupt change of the subject, "What happened between you two?"

"She's dating Brittney now," Noah shrugs, casually, trying desperately to avoid going into specifics regarding the details of his girlfriend's sudden switch-hitting.

"Brittney? Like… the Cheerio, Brittney?" Shelby cocks an eyebrow intriguingly…

"That's the one." Noah confirms with a single swift nod and a sarcastic half smile…

"Oh Noah, I'm sorry… But you have to believe me when I tell you that I know how it feels." Shelby delivers a confident nod as Noah rolls his eyes through a slightly audible groan towards the joke that Shelby quickly realizes was rather poorly placed…

Her son did not particularly enjoy relishing on the cause of his father's departure from their family… none of them did.

"It must be in our gene pool or something," She shrugs in her attempt towards redeeming herself without realizing that she was doing nothing more than simply making things worse. "To be attracted to ga-"

"Mom!" He cuts her off abruptly, eyes widening in the shock towards his mother's statement.

"Sorry, sorry…" Shelby laughs gently, but concedes towards slanting away from the topic, "So… I don't really know how to do this from a parent's point of view… Do you wanna eat a tub of ice cream and watch sad movies or something?"

"Only chicks do that after a breakup, mom." Noah informs her quietly.

"That's not true." Shelby tells her son, "When your father left me, I punched his car door in and broke two knuckles," She raises the fist of her right hand upwards towards her son's eye level so that for the first time, he notices the slightly mismatched knuckles of her middle and ring fingers. "And considering that I don't recommend you doing that, I am going to ask you again… Do you want to eat a tub of ice cream and watch sad movies?"

"Shouldn't you be checking on Rachel?" He is pushing away from her, trying desperately to end this conversation so that he can retreat back towards his room and sulk for the remainder of the night… Shelby knows that it is her duty as a mother not to let this happen…

She doesn't fall for it for a second.

"Rachel will be okay for a few minutes by herself… She isn't going anywhere, Noah…" The words _are you sure about that_ linger dangerously against his tongue, and although he never actually says them, his mom can still see it inside of his eyes…

She has an uncanny ability of doing this; she always has.

"Everyone wants to learn to love again, Noah…" Her eyes narrow seriously; she doesn't want her son to falter alongside the idea that he could grow to be okay with being alone just as long as everybody else around him was happy… not like she had done, "Don't stop letting that in, okay?"

"She told me that she was pregnant," Shelby's heart stops dead inside of her chest; her eyes widen so prominently that she literally fears them to positively escape from within her skull, "Santana, I mean…"

"Noah…" She warns him threateningly, her voice no higher than a mere whisper, "You better think very carefully about what you say next."

"She isn't…" He rectifies his initial words quickly so that suddenly, Shelby finds herself able to inhale a sufficient breath of oxygen once more.

She thought that she was at first, but then she found out that she wasn't…" He offers her a steady explanation so that Shelby quickly finds that the more he speaks, the more her head seems to be spinning, "She kept it from me for weeks… that she had been lying to me… That's kind of why I broke up with her."

"Well Noah…" Shelby breathes strategically, trying desperately to prevent herself from exploding upon her son, "Maybe this should be another one of those awkward father-son sex talks with your mother after all."

"Mom, please," Noah begs, "I know that I screwed up, okay… I only need one girl ever telling me that she's pregnant to spend the rest of my life in abstinence."

"Good," Shelby nods aggressively although she is still not fully satisfied, "That's a start… But you know that I can't just let this go, Noah… Jesus, do you have any idea how much your life would have changed if you were to have a child right now?"

"I know mom, I know!" His voice elevates exponentially, "Please, I've been beating myself up over this for over two months now; I don't need to start all over again…"

"You've been keeping this a secret for two months?" Her hand hovers, quivering against her chest, directly above her own pounding heart in an effort to try and slow it, "When did you plan on telling me, when you walked through the front door with a baby in your arms?"

"I know, I…"

"Who else knows?" She cuts him off, helps him to understand that she is not looking for his excuses, but instead, his answers.

"Who else knows, Noah?" She repeats herself sternly, emphasizing each syllable so that this time, he only hesitates briefly in his silence; gulping softly before he answers her.

"Rachel"

"Rachel kept a secret?" Shelby's eyebrows arch towards the acknowledgment that her usual blabbermouth of a daughter has managed to keep such an important secret for so long…

She hadn't meant to lighten an otherwise serious conversation, but at the same time, she can't help but to be grateful when she sees her son's mouth turning upwards… She was beginning to miss her children's smile already.

Shelby wants to shake him, she wants to grab him by the shoulders and scream at him for coming so close to ruining his life in the midst of tragedy, but the thought is selfish… The idea alone is selfish, and right now, Shelby knows that she needs to be nothing less than absolutely selfless for both of her children.

"Mom!" Shelby snaps back into attention; she hadn't realized that she was staring so blankly into her son's eyes until he'd snapped back into focus directly in front of her.

"Hm?" She asks stupidly, her jaw dropping confoundedly.

"I asked how she was doing… Rachel, I mean," He repeats, eyeing her carefully in his concern, "I uh… I heard her this morning, you know… in your room."

Shelby freezes as she attempts to formulate a correct answer inside of her head, but she doesn't know how to tell her son that she can never possibly have all of the answers that he is ever looking for; the answers that her starving tongue is so desperate to tell him, but never can…

"She's coping, Noah," Shelby concedes towards what she can only assume to be the best possible answer in this moment. "Right now, I'm concerned about you."

"I heard my name…"

Noah and Shelby react simultaneously; their heads jerking upwards and into an attentive posture as they watch Rachel descend slowly and cautiously down the length of the stairwell.

She eyes them carefully; she knows that her brother and mother have recently been talking about her, this much is obvious… To what scope, however, is an entirely different story; Shelby can only offer her daughter an understanding nod; she is not a stupid girl, Shelby was not willing to play her as such.

"Come on, Rach," She nods, indicating for her daughter to approach, "I think that maybe you should join us."

Rachel approaches the crowded couch with a hint of trepidation… Her daughter takes her time seating herself against the couch's arm, so that Shelby finds herself suddenly sandwiched in between her two children.

She looks between them; Rachel on one side of her, Noah on the other, and she can't help but to think of all of the plans that she had once had for each of her children… so many plans that had since done nothing more than fall through.

All she had ever wanted was the absolute best for them both.

"I know that we haven't really had an opportunity to talk as a family since… since everything that happened." She eases into conversation gently, "You guys deserve to have the opportunity to express how you're feeling… it wasn't fair of me to wait so long to give you that… I'm sorry."

"It's okay, mom," Rachel whispers gently, her voice so low that Shelby has barely caught it.

"Yeah, it's not your fault…" Noah reciprocates feelings identical to those of her sister.

"Listen, I know that a lot of things are about to change around here, and I would be lying to you guys if I told you that I wasn't just as scared about them as you are," She attempts to be honest, but at the same time, she can't help but to grow concerned that the truth will do nothing more other than frighten her children even further away, "We'll be okay guys… You just have to remember that right now, we are our strongest allies… we have to stick together… we'll be alright just as long as we stick together."

Shelby's head swivels cautiously between her two children, watching as they nod their heads carefully in unison… They don't speak; Shelby wishes that they would, she wishes that they would just show her the world that was inside of her heads already, this vast, open land…

She would be lying if she said that she wasn't just a little bit jealous.

"Listen, I straightened some things out today… Rachel, I set you up with a tutoring plan and me with work…" She explains hastily in an effort to displace the required logistics before things took an obligatory turn towards the more emotional, "I took some time off… just until things get settled down… You guys both have the right to know that things may get a little bit tight around here for a little while."

"I can drop out of school," There isn't so much as a pause between Shelby's words and Noah's suggestion, "I can work a few extra shifts at Sheets n' Things… maybe get another job."

"Noah, you can't!" Rachel shrills in her immediate response; echoing Shelby's exact thoughts although Shelby proceeds with an additional air of calm that had not been echoed by her daughter.

"I'm agreeing with Rachel on this one, Noah…" Shelby nods, "That's not happening… If anything, you should be working harder in school for Rachel, but mostly for yourself…"

"Yeah Noah," Rachel leans forwards in front of Shelby so that she can smirk towards Noah, "Trust me, I'll let you take care of me when you're a rich professional football player, okay?"

"How about you take of me when you're a Broadway superstar…" Rachel freezes uncomfortably; Shelby can feel her daughter's body tensing against her own and all at once, Shelby turns towards her only to see that the stars in her daughter's eyes, normally bright enough to ignite the night sky are dull, empty, dead…

"I wouldn't bank on that, Noah…" Her voice softens impossibly; she's practically squeaking, her voice barely above a whisper…

"No," He shakes his head in his refusal to accept this as a potential possibility, despite the fact that they all know it to be the truth, "I'd bet my life on it, Rach… It's gonna happen, you'll see."

"What if I don't get the chance?" Shelby has to suppress the echoing sob that threatens to escape from the inside of her chest… She can't stop seeing Rachel as that four year old child who doesn't yet even know what death is… She knows that she will be having to remind herself constantly otherwise throughout the entirety of this lengthy process… She knows that should Rachel end up being the one having to constantly, albeit inadvertently, do it for her with her words of reminding towards just how much she truly does understand, it will surely kill her…

"You will, Rachel…" Noah nods confidently, stretching his arm outwards behind his mother in an effort to give Rachel the gentlest of nudges against the shoulder… She tries to respond with a smile, but her expression comes up as nothing more than a grimace.

"Don't give up on your future, Rachel… not when there's so much ahead of you…" Shelby addresses her child gently, desperate to have her understand the same idea that she has known all along; that her children were the only two people that she has ever met in the entirety of this world who have ever found a means by which to reach out and touch the sky.

And that's gotta count for something, right?

"I'm not giving up…" Rachel insists quietly, "I just can't afford to wait anymore is all."

"Hey, none of that, okay…" Shelby shakes her head as her arm wraps instinctively tighter about Rachel's shoulders as she attempts to convince her to have just as much confidence in herself as the rest of them do. "We're fighters, we all are… I know that we've been to hell and back a couple of times before, but there's no reason to believe that we can't do this again…"

"Testing the strong ones…" Noah breathes gently, his words seeping straight through Shelby's pores and into her very core as she nods.

"Rachel?" She turns towards her daughter, waiting on the girl's confirmation, waiting nervously for Rachel to inform her that she is in this as entirely as her mother and brother were…

"Yeah…" Rachel nods carefully, and although it is not entirely convincing, it is enough to enact at least a little bit of confidence into the mother… for now. Rachel still has a long way to go – in more than one aspect – Shelby knows this… But she also knows that these are simply things that come with time.

"Aunt Krista is going to be moving in with us to help out," She registers the desperate need for a subject change and obliges more than willingly to the silent request. "You know that you're grandparents only live a few minutes away, and that you can always come to me… always. You already know that."

Her children bob their heads simultaneously; a single, short nod… It is one of those rare times that Shelby can actually see the perfect mix of both of their parents inside of kid's faces… one of those rare times where the transform from simply looking alike, to looking positively identical…

Even still, sometimes she has to stop and idealize over the idea that she'd created the two lives seating on either side of her.

"You're not alone, guys…" She promises, pulling either of them closer into her side, "Don't try to be, okay?" She leans into them insidiously; she wonders if they understand that they ease her fears just as much as she does theirs… She hopes to God not.

"I don't tell you guys that I love you enough, do I?" She voices without particularly meaning to.

"You do…" Rachel assures her quickly…

"Yeah," Noah nods in his agreement, "If anything, I'd think it was the opposite…" Shelby shakes her head; she disagrees, she has never disagreed about anything that either of her children has told her more in her life, but at the moment, she simply can't seem to find the words to express this…

"This is kind of screwed up…" Noah speaks through a laugh but his voice is laced with a displeased seriousness…

"Of course it is; it's our family, we like to keep each other on our toes…" Rachel reciprocates, and Shelby sees the shine of a smile upon her face for what seems like the first time since her diagnosis. "I bet that this probably wasn't what you were banking on when you decided to start a family, huh mom…"

Her words shift suddenly and dramatically so that Shelby can't help but to freeze immediately… She feels as if she may be able to slice the tension that has since built up within their makeshift conference table with a knife.

"Hey," Her voice is firm, yet impossibly gentle at the same time; a tone that nothing less than an experienced mother could ever possibly muster as her fingertips linger beneath the girl's chin, tilting it upwards so that this time, she forces Rachel to look into her eyes as she speaks, "This was a choice, Rachel… it was never a mistake…"

"I want you to remember that, okay?"

* * *

><p>The first time that Shelby finds an open opportunity to cry, it is nearly sixty hours to the minute following her daughter's diagnosis.<p>

She is laying inside of her bed, just considering the idea of what a pattern her sleepless nights have since become, considering the idea of just how consistent they are with her rapidly developing belief towards the idea that sleeping is giving in when she breaks down with a swift abruptness, and a remarkable force.

They shake her to the very core, her sobs, leaving her literally trembling to the point that the mattress below her shudders dangerously, leaving her able to do little more than to bury her face inside of her pillow in an effort to stifle her strangled sobs, to prevent them from waking either of her children, or even her sister… none of whom she can ever allow to see her like this…

Not ever.

She knows that she must look positively insane, tears dripping down her face, eyes, layered in dark, profound bags from lack of sleep, highlighted in red…

The mere idea towards the fact that her fear is what keeps her hiding wide awake so late into the night only brings the tears down harder…

She is terrified of falling asleep, terrified that should she do so, it would only be to wake up a much weaker person than whom she had put to bed the night before…

She confronts her fear by simply choosing not to fall asleep to begin with.

But it is starting to occur to Shelby that during the night, where she has no place to hide from all of the nightmares that keep her awake, things only seem to get worse…

She considers herself to be lucky alongside the realization that she has to force herself out of bed at the crack of dawn anyway in order to shuttle her children out of the door, to get Rachel admitted into the hospital, to embark on the beginnings of what she has since dubbed zero day…

She is not surprised when she makes her way gently towards Rachel's room only to find that her daughter is already wide awake, seated cross-legged at the end of her bed, staring encompassing towards the packed duffle bag stationed directly in front of her…

"Hey…" Rachel blinks upwards towards her mother with empty eyes; she is afraid and understandably so… Shelby perceives the girl's silence as an invitation to move forwards, to advance upon her.

"Are you ready?" She asks gently, wrapping her youngest securely into her arms so that she can feel the soft nod of Rachel's head against her torso…

Rachel is silent… her daughter is rarely silent; she had after all, come from Shelby herself…

Shelby knows that her daughter only relishes in her silence when she wants to be alone; she knows this, because she is the exact same way… She also knows that to grant Rachel some time to herself throughout the extent of this process would not only be a suggestion, but a necessity… as difficult as she knows it will be for her to do so.

Having an impossibly ill toddler as compared to having an impossibly ill teenager were two entirely different things, or so Shelby was slowly beginning to learn…

If anything, there were only more forces of the universe completely devoid of her control this time around than there had been the last now that Rachel was old enough to fend for herself for at least some of the time…

She was already finding it difficult for her to put aside her needs as a mother with Rachel's as her daughter… Her sinking gut feeling is telling her that this is a difficulty that is not likely to diminish in any sort of a hurry.

"We'll leave in about a half hour, okay?" Shelby hints subtly towards the idea that she has picked up on Rachel's desperate bid for solitude, "I'm gonna go wake up your brother, alright?"

She is not expecting any sort of a response, which is why – she attempts to convince herself – she is just fine with pulling away from the girl without having first retrieved any sort of physical response from her.

She leaves the same way that she has come in, much too quickly, yet still at a complete loss for words.

She is made completely aware of the idea that today must be particularly extraordinary when she enters into her son's bedroom only to find that he is not entirely absorbed within his sleep despite the extreme hours of the early morning.

She is too used to having to fight with him kicking and screaming, too used to having to physically pull her son out of his bed in order to get him up in the mornings… So used to it in fact, that when she finds him laying flat on his back, arms folded delicately beneath his head, eyes closed and breathing restlessly in a manner that informs Shelby that he is indeed, wide awake, she finds herself almost disappointed…

She is craving a sense of normalcy; something, anything… but she can't seem to find it anywhere these days, making it all the more difficult for her to hold onto what little she had left.

"Noah?" She calls into the darkened bedroom without advancing forwards, simply lingering inside of the doorway.

"Mmm…" He responds with a tired groan that has Shelby's heart sinking just a little bit more than it already had been… She was hoping for silence, hoping for an excuse to rouse him forcibly with a little bit of yelling, a handful of kicking and screaming and maybe even some expert physical maneuvers that she has since mastered if at all necessary…

But it wouldn't be.

She steps further into his room without even realizing what it is that she is doing…

"Noah, wake up honey…" She finds herself speaking with her typical gait to rouse him, despite the fact that he has already made it more than clear that he is already awake…

"I'm up," His eyes open as he confirms everything that she has already known, pulling himself upwards into a seated position against his bed, stretching the entirety of his muscular wingspan as he commits to a steep yawn, "Are we leaving?"

"About thirty minutes, okay?" She provides him with her anticipated timeline, retreating steadily backwards towards the hallway before his eyes can clear from the haze of his sleep long enough for him to recognize the disappointment in her eyes, "Get yourself dressed and ready, I'm gonna go make some breakfast, okay?"

"Yeah…" He is rolling sideways out of his bed just as Shelby manages to escape inside of the hallway towards the stairwell leading towards the lower level of her home… Things are moving quickly… too quickly for Shelby's liking, but she already knows just as much as the rest of them do that there is no time to slow down… not yet, anyway.

She is at the base of the staircase when she hears the soft pounding echoing across the width of the front door from somewhere against its opposite side…

Shelby freezes, eyeing the mahogany panel briefly, her eyebrows arching with wonderment… Who the hell would be knocking on her front door at six o'clock in the morning?

Shelby stares just long enough to convince herself that she has made the noise up in its entirety when a slightly more profound echo repeats itself, longer and harder than the last had been so that this time she knows, there is no mistaking it…

Shelby approaches the door with a discrete caution… She is certain that anybody coming to her door this early in the morning couldn't be here for anything good…

She tugs at the lock, the firm click reverberating down the length of her arm as she grasps at the doorknob and opens the front door but a crack in an effort to peer outwards towards the source of the knocking…

She opens it in its entirety only upon seeing that her face is familiar, unthreatening…

The boy standing before her looks exhausted; his eyes swollen with sleep deprivation, his hair matted down flat against his head…. But he is dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, the small bouquet of mismatched flowers that he is clutching between his hands indicating that his visit had been pre-planned.

"Finn…" She breathes outward in her surprise… She usually only sees the boy at her house in the evenings when he came over in order to waste away in front of video games and crappy movies with her son… And even then, Finn has had a key to their home ever since he was in elementary school…

Shelby can't even remember the last time that he'd knocked on her front door looking for entry.

His formality, along with the bouquet of flowers currently stuffed gently inside of his hands tells Shelby that his intentions are not to pay a casual visit to Noah…

"Hi Mrs. C…" He fidgets nervously with his fingers, scuffing the toes of his converse into the welcome mat below his feet, frying it even more so than what the old, filthy thing already was.

"You're here early," She comments slyly, half enjoying making the boy standing before her squirm with discomfort…

Who knew that the sense of normalcy that she had so been longing for would have come from Finn Hudson?

Shelby had always dreamed of the day that a boy would drift towards her doorstep in search of her daughter, despite a point in her not so distant past when she'd believed that the opportunity would never come.

Of course, she had imagined the circumstances to have been a little bit different, but at this point, Shelby was willing to take whatever it was that she could get.

"Yeah…" He breathes uncomfortably, "Well… Puck told me that Rachel was starting chemotherapy today so I just wanted to stop by to wish her luck."

"That's very sweet of you, Finn," She defies her desire to keep him on his toes and watches as the entirety of his body relaxes visibly in his response towards seeing that the woman as good as his second mother was not upset with him. "I'll go get Rachel, why don't you come in, I'm making breakfast. Do you want any?"

"Um… no, I can't stay long, actually, I have football practice… I just wanted to stop by quick…" Shelby eyes the teen carefully; she knows for a fact that he does not have a football practice to attend this morning; the schedule that has been taped to her refrigerator door since August could have told her this much…

Shelby is willing to bet that his intentions towards a quick visit have more to do with his not wanting to run into Noah.

"Okay…" Her instinct tells her not to question him, and she doesn't, "I'll be right back."

Shelby rounds carefully back up the length of the stairwell that she had just descended upon… The second that she approaches the top, she finds her ears attuning to a steady streaming of water stemming from the direction of the bathroom… The steam billowing from beneath the crack in the doorway tells her that Noah is in the shower…

Shelby is silently grateful for all of their sakes… She knows that Noah would not be too pleased with his best friend coming to his door at the ass crack of dawn with flowers for his sister…

Her son was overprotective by nature, they all know this… Shelby is willing to approach that crossroads if and when they ever came to it… For now, Shelby is perfectly willing to allow the two teens to have their innocent fun…

"Hey Rach…" She knocks delicately against the door, choosing not to wait for a response before she rounds into the room… not like she had truly been expecting one anyway…

Rachel is in the exact same position that Shelby had found her in the first time she had left the girl nearly ten minutes ago now… she hasn't appeared to have moved so much as an inch.

"Yeah?" Her eyes glisten as they dance upwards towards her mother, watching as the older woman saunters gently forwards before dropping herself against the edge of Rachel's bed, directly beside the girl.

"There's someone here to see you…"

"Who?" Rachel's eyes widen with curiosity as she eyes her mother inquiringly; seemingly interested for the first time since approaching her earlier that morning.

"A boy…" Shelby plays, nudging at Rachel's shoulders gently as the younger girl's eyebrows arch in just a manner that forces her to resemble Shelby to the exact, or so the mother believes, upon her finding Finn at her doorstep.

"Finn," Shelby doesn't allow the question to linger for very long upon Rachel's eyes before she answers the girl's silent inquiry with a casual shrug as if it were no big deal… She pretends not to notice Rachel's eyes lighting up alongside the revelation.

"Finn's here?"

"He's downstairs," Shelby confirms so that suddenly, Rachel is up and on her feet faster than what Shelby had seen her move in weeks… The woman can't help but to be more than aware that had her daughter not been crippled by the burden of disease, she would be performing no less than a full sprint towards the front door…

It makes her slow gait, the slow, disheveled walk even more obvious.

Shelby follows behind at a snail's pace, keeping a considerable distance in an effort to provide Rachel with the space that she deserves at the moment…

Her daughter reaches the crest of the staircase before she pauses suddenly, turning slowly towards her mother, eyes wide with fear and confusion as she gulps hesitantly.

"Do I look okay?" The question knocks the breath straight from Shelby's lungs… For the briefest of seconds, all she sees is a teenager, plagued with no more than the worry as to whether or not she possessed the capacity to impress a boy in this moment, "I probably look like crap… Maybe… do you think that maybe you can stall for a little while, keep him here while I get ready… I'll just be a minute and then…"

"Hey…" Shelby stops her daughter in her incessant ramblings through a wide smile as she grabs onto Rachel's shoulders and looks her square in the eyes as she speaks, "You look beautiful."

Rachel pauses in her frantic motions, her eyes glancing in the slightest upward motion as she offers her mother the smallest of smiles; one that Shelby finally notices, has managed to reach her dazzling eyes.

"Thanks mom…"

"No problem…" Shelby shakes her off, releasing the girl reluctantly from within her grasp as she turns back towards the direction of the stairs... And no matter how miniscule she knows that the motion seems to have been, despite the idea that she knows full well that this is simply one of those things that a mother was bound to have to do eventually, Shelby finds herself struggling to let go.

"Now go…" Shelby forces herself to provide the instruction through gritted teeth, "You don't want to keep him waiting."

Rachel flashes her one final smile before finally committing to her descent down the length of the stairwell, leaving Shelby in her wake, the mother lingering at the top landing in an effort to give her child as much privacy as was humanly possible, as much as she may have wanted nothing more than to hover over her child's shoulder and guide her through her every motion…

"Hi, Finn…" Her daughter's voice is uncharacteristically distant; the girl that usually holds an uncanny ability to hold a confident poise like none she'd ever seen before flustering towards the mere presence of a boy that she has known since she was four years old.

"Hey Rach," His voice cracks in the unusual sharpness of his pitch and Shelby suppresses the urge to laugh… She tries to think back towards when she was Rachel's age; she considers the feeling of being young and in love, her relationship with Broadway branching outwards into the one with Hiram that had ultimately cracked and faulted under the burden of lies and disease…

This time, any hint of a laugh is swallowed immediately inside of her throat; she prays that this is a fate that neither of her children would ever have to endure in the course of their relationships… She knows that her daughter is no more than a fifteen year old teenager, and Finn merely a boy that had approached with a sentiment of luck, but still, the more she thinks about it, the more she finds the scenario to be spiraling out of the conscious control of her mind…

She just can't help but to be reminded how it was that her own life turned out… the worry builds exponentially deep within the very pit of her stomach.

The concern escalates the second that she hears Rachel guiding Finn towards the direction of the living room, their voices diminishing with distance before ultimately disappearing into nothing more than a few indistinct echoes…

She tries desperately to force the worry into the back of her mind; tries telling herself that the possible scenarios, vast and numerous swarming across her brain were stupid, farfetched… She trusts Finn, and more importantly, she trusts her daughter…

Of course, whether or not she is willing to trust the two together, she has yet to decide.

Shelby practically forces herself to stall her descent downstairs only until she is certain that Rachel and Finn are safely distant… She is not looking to embarrass her daughter, not yet anyway…

Luckily for her however, her previous plans upon making breakfast seemed almost strategic now that the two had relocated towards the living room, which was conveniently stationed directly adjacent to the kitchen…

The idea that Shelby could keep an eye on them without having even planned it that way seemed ideal.

When Shelby does finally find herself rounding inside of the kitchen's interior, she finds herself surprised to find her sister already slaving over a steaming frying pan over the oven although at this point, she isn't entirely sure why.

"Do you ever sleep?" Shelby asks the slightly younger woman, strolling into the kitchen while simultaneously peering about the corner towards Finn and Rachel, sitting side by side against the couch, not quite close enough to touch, but dangerously near actually doing so…

"No," Krista shrugs, but she doesn't linger; instead, she turns excitedly towards Shelby, "So who was at the door?" The excitement barely contained behind her sister's voice tells Shelby that Finn and Rachel have already inadvertently provided her with the basics by merely strolling past her, now she is only thriving for details, "A boy? Here for Rachel?"

"I don't know, Krista…" Shelby emphasizes her concern through a profound shake of her head as she peers once again towards the two teenagers against the couch… Krista takes it as an open invitation, moving slowly towards Shelby in an effort to catch a glimpse herself.

"He's one of Noah's friends…" She explains casually, just as Rachel's eyes turn just enough so that she manages to catch a glimpse of her mother and aunt spying on them from around the corner of the next room.

She glares at them warningly; Finn seemingly as not taken notice, but Shelby can't help herself; she smirks against the idea of being scolded by her own daughter for espionage… Her head snaps immediately back around and out of sight, eyeing her little sister as to silently ask her for her own opinion as she smirks up towards Shelby.

"He's cute," Krista sings slyly, "And he seems like a sweet enough kid."

"What, did you determine this from listening to his voice from around the corner for thirty seconds?" Shelby is shocked towards the idea that she is beginning to grow defensive against Finn Hudson of all people, but she is unable to help herself…

It is her natural, distinct right as a mother to be wary in general; forget the added factors that are currently slamming into them from every which direction.

"He rolled up to your doorstep at six in the morning for her, didn't he?" Krista shrugs, as if this is the all deciding factor towards Shelby's lingering worry.

"With flowers…" Shelby sighs, and Krista shifts her eyebrows through a smirk… The more unsure that Shelby is growing, the more confident it seems, that Krista becomes.

"You know how protective Noah is of Rachel, he would freak…" Shelby shifts her uncertainties onto the concerns of her son, understanding that while her concern towards Rachel may be considered to be overbearing, that towards the reaction of her son would be nothing short of legitimate, "Plus the timing isn't exactly ideal."

"She's still a teenager, Shelby…" Krista informs her as if this wasn't a factor that had been in the back of her mind this entire time… This was the entire point of her concern exactly; her daughter was still, at the very core, just a teenager.

"She's getting ready to start chemotherapy, Krista…" Shelby emphasizes, hoping that this would highlight the growing fears that Shelby can't help but to bring herself to express verbally… The idea that her child could not possibly worry herself over average, everyday teenage problems in the midst of preparations towards tackling something so much more seemingly extraordinary…

It makes the idea that her daughter is facing her own death before truly having the opportunity to so much as live all the more prominent than what it already had been.

"She is still a teenager, Shelby…" Krista repeats as if this can somehow counter Shelby's ever-important latter comment, "She needs this."

Shelby's silence is indicative towards the idea that this is a topic that she is no longer willing to argue over… She will give Rachel a chance to embark upon the time that she so obviously needs for now, but at the same time, she can only consider at the moment, the much needed chat that she is going to have to have with her daughter; penciled in sometime between her hospital visits and chemotherapy treatments…

Suddenly, things were beginning to seem even less fair than what they already appeared to be.

"This is ready," Krista shifts in her defeat, shrugging towards the sizzling pan of eggs currently seated atop the stove, "Do you want me to call Noah down to eat?"

"No," Shelby answers with an abrupt haste that makes Krista jump slightly… The last thing that Shelby needs right now is to have her son walk in upon his sister and best friend seated on the couch together… even if it was completely innocent. Shelby has enough to deal with today she wasn't willing to add an enraged son to that list. "He's in the shower. He'll come down when he's ready."

The minutes linger long and silent; Shelby spends them merely picking at the plate of food in front of her… She is well aware of the idea that nobody within the confines of the Corcoran house were going to be particularly hungry today…

"You scared him away!" Shelby jumps at the presence of a voice amidst the silence; turning just in time to see her daughter's angry face, beat red as she storms into the kitchen, flowers in hand… The sound of the front door clicking gently shut beyond them, informs Shelby as to exactly what her daughter is referring to.

"I didn't scare him away," Shelby sighs towards her daughter's overdramatic tendencies as she hurries to her feet immediately, shuffling her daughter quickly into a chair in an effort to get her off of her feet, satisfying her with terms of support by placing Finn's flowers into the water-filled vase that she had already prepared against the center of the table.

"You and Aunt Krista were spying on us the entire time," Rachel informs her mother as if Shelby hadn't already been aware of her actions, "You scared him away."

"He'll be back." Shelby assures her daughter with a soft laugh, placing a confident hand against her shoulder in an effort to silently emphasize towards her daughter that with a lingering chest infection and the idea that in a few mere hours' time, she will be beginning chemotherapy treatments, she should not be getting herself worked up at the moment.

As if any of them needed the reminder.

"How do you know?" Rachel refuses to comply; her chest is heaving, face growing splotchy as her body rebels against her typical teenage rant, emphasized only by Rachel's profound ability to make any event as theatrical as humanly possible.

'I'm your mother," Shelby explains to her gently, silently begging her daughter to follow her soothing lead, "I know everything."

Rachel rolls her eyes heavily as she relaxes into her chair; Shelby can't help but to laugh as she lowers herself into the empty chair directly adjacent to her daughter… For the briefest of moments, Shelby foolishly allows herself to believe that this is nothing more than just another normal day… She is getting ready to send her kids off to school, Rachel up and ready to go while Noah slacks lazily behind…

She uses this blissful naivety as a means to keep moving although she is more than aware of the fact that the second she registers the lie that she is consistently living within, it will only hurt her harder.

"Noah! Come on and eat!" Shelby shouts for her son to put a little extra spring in his step… If he keeps this up, Shelby thinks, he will surely be late for glee… And by default, when he makes Rachel late for her coveted rehearsal as well, they would never hear the end of it…

Shelby's voice travels up the length of the stairwell, it reverberates across the entirety of the house and Shelby turns her head just in time to watch Rachel cringe as the echo thunders painfully inside of her very skull.

And suddenly, just like that, the potential of living a lie is gone just as quickly as it had started.

"Sorry…" Shelby grimaces towards her daughter in her apology, "Headache?"

"A little…" Rachel nods gently, and judging on the idea that Rachel has a tendency to underemphasize the physical aspects of her state of being, Shelby can only guess that when her daughter says a little, she actually means a lot…

"I'm sorry, sweetheart…" Shelby doesn't know what else to do other than apologize as she squeezes gently at her daughter's shoulders, "We'll tell Dr. McCarthy once we get to the hospital, maybe they can give you something… Do you want any aspirin for now?"

"No," Rachel assures her, her head unable to commit to anything more than a single, staccato head shake.

"Well then maybe you should eat a little something… It might help, Rach…" Shelby's suggestion is met by nothing more than Rachel warily eyeing the plate of food before her… Shelby had already provided her with miniscule portions alongside the understanding that the last thing that Rachel would want to do this morning would be to eat, but still, Rachel didn't seem to be taking to even this…

"Why," She is growing snarky in a combination of her building pain and nerves, the excitement of Finn's visit diminishing already alongside the reminder of why it had been placed to begin with, "So that I can puke it all back up later on tonight?"

"Rachel…"

"I'm not hungry mom, really…" She places a strong emphasis on her words, exemplified only by her pushing her plate firmly away from her; declaring an immediate defeat against her breakfast plate.

"Humor me, Rach, just a little bit, okay…" Shelby begs; it is starting already, "Please… you heard what your doctor's have been telling you, you're going to need your energy and-"

The remainder of Shelby's words are swallowed by the heavy pounding of footsteps as they begin their descent down the length of the staircase… Shelby watches carefully as Rachel cringes briefly at the noise before her eyes widen into yet another fear, an idea that she hadn't previously considered in her haze of being embellished upon by Finn… What her brother's reaction to his friend's early morning visit would be.

"You're not going to tell Noah mom, are you?" Rachel's voice drops into barely above a whisper; she sounds panicked; Shelby feels for her daughter almost immediately, "About Finn, I mean…"

"Morning Noah," Krista emphasizes her greeting towards her nephew in an effort to silently indicate towards her sister and niece's silence as Noah rounds into the kitchen and seats himself at the table on the opposite side of Rachel as Shelby…

All the mother can offer the girl is the slightest shake of her head; she can only hope that it is enough.

"Where did the flowers come from?" Her normally less than observant son picks up upon their newest centerpiece in the midst of shoveling his breakfast down his throat… Shelby sighs; she was banking on him never even noticing them.

"A friend from school," Rachel speaks the lie hastily, intercepting Shelby's pre-prepared answer with one of her own, "Just someone stopping by to wish me luck."

The woman about the room collectively hold their breaths, but Noah simply shrugs, apparently satisfied with the answer… Shelby knows that a person with a more stable attention span than that of her son would have continued in their prying, she knows that they would have dug deeper for a more acceptable answer…

She only contribute the already overwhelming factors of the day to have embarked upon their favor today for once…

"Noah, eat fast…" Shelby intercepts the conversation before it can continue, hoping to permanently distract him with the necessity of rushing…

"Come on guys," Shelby swallows heavily; it was time for her to focus upon the task at hand, it was time to get them out of the house, to get Rachel admitted, to dive headfirst straight into this fight… all of them..

It was going to be a hard day, Shelby knows this already… Hell, it was going to be a long series of hard days… Shelby tells herself not to panic, she tells herself that it will do nothing other than prevent her from moving forwards, from moving them all along… and that was the last thing that any of them needed right now.

"We have to get going."

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><p><strong>Baygirl123<strong>** – Haha, I figured you wouldn't like this chapter very much, but I promise, I'm only setting up Noah looking for a beat down! Noah telling the glee club is coming up, not sure whether in the next chapter or one or two down the line I'm bad at figuring out timelines until the last minute hahaha. Thanks for the review!**

**Banjoid**** - Wow, thank you so much for the review, I'm honored!**

**Ballerina03**** – I'm glad you made it home safe! And I'm glader (if that's a word?) that you enjoyed. I've got a little bit more Hiram coming up, we're gonna figure out how he died either in the next chapter or in the next couple of chapters, not sure yet. Sorry for making you wait again, this time it was just because I couldn't figure out where to stop this chapter and just kind of kept writing haha.**

**Jesse**** – Oh wow, thank you so much, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! The past chapters will keep coming although with a bit less frequency coming up, I'm glad you like them though I get nervous that people don't really like them all that much. Rachel definitely wants to go through with getting treated, she just doesn't want her issues to get in anybody else's way, particularly Noah's which is going to be a little bit of an issue down the line. Thanks for the review!**

**Readerforlife**** - That made perfect sense! The past chapters are gonna start to wean off a bit after this little chunk of chapters, I just needed something to set the stage but things are going to start being more concentrated in the present. Thanks so much for the revie- That made perfect sense! The past chapters are gonna start to wean off a bit after this little chunk of chapters, I just needed something to set the stage but things are going to start being more concentrated in the present. Thanks so much for the review!**


	25. Hiram Corcoran March 2001

**Hey everyone! **

**I know I'm running low on excuses, but once again I'm sorry for the wait. Finals and graduation are rapidly beginning to eat my alive, but the good news is that there is a light at the end of the tunnel; I'm done with school on May 24 and after that, my entire summer is at your leisure. I also had kind of a tough time writing this chapter so that definitely didn't help…**

**The good news is, I'm pulling an all-nighter tonight studying Organic Chemistry and have since deemed this more important so here's a nice little 3:30 a.m. chapter for all of you other insomniacs (or else just people in different time zones) out there.  
><strong>

**Noah's up next, I know a lot of you have been waiting for his go, just had to get this chapter out of the way first, it will play an important role for Noah (and for the rest of them too) down the line.**

** Cheers.**

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><p><strong>Hiram Corcoran<strong> – March 2001

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><p>He can barely see what's in front of him anymore.<p>

The last couple of weeks have become nothing short of the same…

Hiram will find himself nose deep inside of a bar before the sun sets, and with each passing day, will be forcibly removed earlier and earlier into the evening… After that, he's left with nothing more than an attempt to live in the moment just long enough for him to sober up and remember everything that he had since given up in the first place.

And repeat cycle.

Hiram Corcoran finds himself inching closer and closer towards the home that he has left behind with each passing day, but it takes him an entire two weeks before he can finally muster up the courage to work his way up to the front door.

He fumbles briefly with the key ring splayed between his palms, its various array of devices jangling slightly between unsteady fingers as the mid afternoon sun beats painfully down against his back.

As if he needed any more of a reminder towards how he is waking up every single morning inside of a brand new life that he has since learned to hate.

The briefest of fears courses through the length of his spine towards the idea that Shelby may have chosen to change the locks since his departure.

He shouldn't be here… He knows that he shouldn't be here, which is how is more than completely certain that Shelby does too…

Hiram Corcoran knows his wife well enough to know that the mother would adhere to any means necessary to ensure that Hiram did not exhibit another scene such as that by which he'd displayed in front of Noah, in front of either of their children ever again.

He wouldn't put anything past her in terms of protecting those kids, and although he is unspeakably grateful for this, he can't help but to be pleased when his key slips perfectly inside of the lock, clicking with a satisfying echo that proves that such extreme measures on Shelby's part have yet to be taken.

Hiram brightens slightly alongside the acknowledgment that Shelby has not yet placed the final nail inside of the coffin of their marriage just yet… although he is more than aware that he has no right to be.

"Krista, is that you?"

Hiram freezes as the sound of Shelby's voice echoes across his ears… He is expecting her; of course he is expecting her that is the reason that he had come here at this hour to begin with…

Or so he's convinced himself.

Suddenly, he can't be so certain.

He is suddenly more than aware of the fact that he looks more or less like road kill at this point, that his appearance is remarkably representative of the lost man that he has since become.

The idea that he hasn't been consuming much of anything other than a steady intake of booze in these past weeks is becoming more and more obvious with his rapidly slandering frame exemplified only by the slightly yellowish tint that his skin has since taken to…

The idea that his personal hygiene has not been a profound priority on his to-do-list even more so, based upon the steady stench radiating off of the clothes that he hasn't bothered changing in days that is starting to make even him sick…

He is certain that the only other person in the entirety of this world that can compare to his dishevelment is his wife… They were, after all, the perfect couples, Hiram always said…

Or used to say, anyway…

The only difference between these two at this point, is that Shelby actually has an excuse while him… all he is doing is _making_ the excuses that are beginning to make even his own stomach turn.

She doesn't identify his presence for a long while… He wonders whether or not she even remembers that somebody has walked through the front door at all.

He is halfway to installing alarm systems all about their home when finally she sneaks a brief glance upwards from the array of paperwork splattered out before her against the kitchen table…

Her glasses hang low against the bridge of her nose from having her face pressed so close to the papers along the dining room table, and for the briefest of seconds, she looks calmly towards Hiram and back away once more, back to her work as if there were nothing unusual about the sight before him.

Hiram lingers in the moment, embracing it as he wishes desperately that he could positively freeze time where it was and have it never start up ever again.

Shelby takes her quick, guaranteed double take, confirming everything that she had previously believed herself to have seen upon first glance…

The look of defeat alone glazing across her eyes is enough to have him retreating already and she hasn't even spoken yet… Those callous, hateful words that he knows she is so capable of…

He deserves every single one of them.

"You shouldn't be here, Hiram…" She is surprisingly calm; Hiram can tell that she has been preparing for this inevitable moment to have arrived for the past two weeks…

And while she has been anticipating this moment with a dutifully prepared script and a stony resolve, the only thing that he has been preparing himself with was another bottle… He doesn't know how to respond; the only words that he can think to say slip from his mouth void of the barricade that a steady stream of alcohol simply cannot maintain…

"You were right about me, Shelby…" He mutters softly under his breath, but she hears it anyway… She always hears it.

"You're drunk," It's not a question but a statement… Hiram can only shake his head; for once in these past weeks, he is finally sober and that it seems, is the problem.

"No," Shelby hesitates… She knows that there is no reason for him to lie anymore; he has already been caught in all of them already, "I'm sorry that I wasted all of your time, Shelby."

"You need to leave, Hiram…" Her voice isn't as confident the second time around; Shelby has always had a soft spot for the broken… Hiram know this, it is how he had managed to grab a hold of her to begin with.

"I want to see them." The involuntary slurring of his words emphasizing the end of his sentence doesn't play into his case particularly well; he knows this yet still, he has a moment in which he is foolish enough to believe that maybe, Shelby might have missed it.

"No," Her voice is firm and confident once more, "Not like this."

"They're still my kids, Shelby!" He finds his voice rising despite the idea that this will not convince her to allow him to see his children any faster. "I still have the right to be their father!"

"We both know that that isn't always good enough, Hiram..." She silences him instantly in her uncanny ability to do quiet him in a manner that no other human being alive possessed, "What you want is something that we both know neither of us will have ever again."

"Where are they?" He all but ignores Shelby's insistencies that his children are no longer any of his business, and he watches her carefully as she offers the heaviest of sighs, removing her glasses and placing them gently down against the table before she stands in an effort to meet him at the center of the room…

She's several inches shorter than him yet still, her stature manages to present as intimidating.

"That's none of your business…" She shakes her head firmly as if to solidify the idea that she is not going to be easily willing to reveal the location of their children… Hiram wonders if Shelby is aware that his intentions are purely informational; that it took everything that he had inside of him just to bring up the courage to visit Shelby…

She should know that he would never be able to dig out of his cowardice enough to face either of his children any time soon.

He wonders what kind of human being this makes him but he tries not to think like this… He is not certain that he wants the answer.

"You can't keep me from them forever, Shelby…" He tries not to admit to the silent notion that he is secretly glad that she is…

Staying away from him, staying _far_ away from him is what is best for his children right now… And contraire to popular belief, there still is a piece of that father somewhere still inside of him that wants nothing more than what is best for those kids.

"You're keeping yourself from seeing them…" The way that she says this tells Hiram that Shelby knows that he knows this just as much as he does, "You need to get yourself cleaned up Hiram… Look at you, you're a mess."

"Please," He begs for something, anything that can keep him going for at least one more day because he is more than certain that without it, this will be impossible, "Just tell me where they are."

"Noah is at school…" Shelby finally sighs in her response only after several seconds of silence in which she debates her response inside of her head, "Carole is dropping him off at baseball practice and Rachel… Rachel isn't going anywhere anytime soon, Hiram… She's still right where you left her."

"Does she know?" Hiram's head hangs in shame towards the mere idea of their four year old struggling to distinguish why it is that she never sees her mother and father together anymore… Why she doesn't see her father at all anymore while stuck inside of the confines of the hospital,

"Noah has an idea…" Shelby sighs and Hiram can't help but to think back to their initial outburst to begin with, which Noah had been unfortunately present for, "Rachel doesn't, but she's starting to ask why her daddy isn't coming around to see her anymore…"

"What have you been telling her?" Hiram cringes; he is terrified of the answer.

"That her dad has been very busy lately…" Shelby sighs towards the lameness of the excuse, "Out daughter isn't a stupid girl, Hiram… I can't keep lying to her forever. But she doesn't need this right now, Hiram… Neither of them do…"

"Don't blame yourself, Shelby…" Hiram insists, but she merely shakes her head as if to indicate that she doesn't although Hiram knows that somewhere, deep down inside, she does, "It's not your fault… You know as well as I do that you can't bring something back to life once it dies."

He watches as his wife stiffens in her response to his words… He curses himself immediately for his insensitivity… He should know that to so much as mention the notion of death inside of this house has since become taboo… It is an idea that none of them can face.

For the first time throughout the entirety of their conversation, the stony wall that Shelby has since built falters behind her eyes in a sudden, swarming array of tears.

"I'm sorry…"

"I don't," Shelby waves him off immediately; she doesn't want him to continue because if he does, she knows that she will never be able to build himself up again, "Blame myself… I mean."

"Good…" Hiram can only nod.

"Just tell me one thing, Hiram…" She is growing defensive once more; her momentary lapse of emotional control manifesting in an anger that Hiram can tell is beginning to swarm dangerously inside of her head, "Did you ever love me?"

"Of course I did, Shelby… I do," He corrects himself quickly, his eyes sinking as he tries desperately to communicate with her just how much she has continued to warm his heart despite having each and every one of his imperfections laid out on a silver platter before him, "You mean everything, Shelby."

"It just wasn't enough…" Her words are soft; he can see the pain inside of her eyes for the first time upon choosing to truly look into them…

"You wouldn't understand…" He shakes his head; he doesn't know how to explain that he had spent the entirety of their relationship struggling to make up for everything that he had lacked… He can't even describe it to himself, how the hell is he expected to explain it to anybody else?

"Then make me, Hiram!" Her voice is beginning to tremble in its emotion… It shakes Hiram down to his very core, forces him to confront just how few answers he truly does have, "Please help me understand why you kept me in the dark for ten years, why you decided to put me through all of this knowing full well that it could never last forever."

"I'll never be able to give you an explanation, Shelby…" He admits, "Not one that would justify what I did to you or Noah or Rachel anyway… I was selfish, Shelby, I was wrong I know that… But please, you have to believe me when I tell you how much I loved you… How much I do love you." He considers his answer carefully, "You gave me the two greatest things that have ever happened to me… They're the only two things that I have ever done right in my entire life."

Shelby's eyes close gently, her headshaking casually back and forth as she tries desperately not to allow for Hiram's words to seep too deeply inside of her very core,, affecting her in a manner that he knows they've always had an uncanny ability to do.

"What do you think the closest that you can come to a total wreck is, Shelby/" He takes advantage of her silence.

"Hiram, don't…" She shakes her head firmly; Hiram can't help but to watch as a tear escapes from behind her closed eyelids and rolls down the length of her cheeks.

"What do you think is the closest that you can come while still being able to walk away from it all?"

"Hiram…" She's begging; it's not a look that is particularly becoming on her, they both know this; but Hiram has an almost disappointing ability to pull it out of her.

"Do you ever wonder if we can exist like the past never happened?" He takes a single step closer towards her; Shelby's muscles quiver slightly with the motion to back away but never actually commits to the movement, "Like there's no such thing as time?"

"I wish, Hiram…" She murmurs, refusing still to open her eyes in order to face him… He thinks that maybe, this is for the best. "I wish that you could stay."

"I can, Shelby…" He assures her; he's leaning closer and closer into her and he knows that she must sense this, but he is relieved when still, she doesn't back away. "Maybe the world can look like this forever."

His lips graze against hers and although she hesitates momentarily, it's only a matter of seconds before she leans into the notion, their bodies interweaving within one another so that for the briefest of seconds, it's almost as if things had retreated back to normal…

Her hands are making their way up his chest and for a second, Hiram is convinced that it's a motion towards bringing him closer towards her until he feels a forceful push, and just as quickly as it has started, he's jolted away from her one more.

"What's wrong?" He asks although he is not entirely certain why he has chosen to address the seemingly obvious… The second he sees the look inside of his wife's eyes, claiming everything that he already knows without actually saying it, he knows that it was the wrong thing to say.

"You need to leave, Hiram…" Her eyes narrow; it's no longer merely a suggestion, but a demand. "Now… If you want to see those kids ever again, you will clean yourself up."

"Right…" He nods slowly; he was expecting just as much, but that didn't make actually hearing it any easier…

He is on his way out; he'd be willing to swear to this much. He is leaving, ready to go back to… well, back to nowhere just like where he came from, he supposes… A flash of vague familiarity catches the corner of his eye and forces him to retreat back…

He isn't even entirely certain how he'd recognized it; nearly five years behind them, represented in nothing more than a slip of paper that he hadn't even had a remarkable part in establishing in the first place.

"What are you doing with Rachel's college fund?" He eyes the bonds that him and his wife had taken out on behalf of their youngest mere days before she had been born… Expanding at but a little over four years, the bond is barely worth a fraction of the core value that eighteen years of keeping it inside of the bank could have provided for their daughter's future, but it doesn't take Hiram very much problem solving, even from inside of his current haze of confusion, to establish her intentions.

"We both know that there's no other way, Hiram…" She confirms for him.

The worst part is that he knows her words to be true

"This is my fault…" He sighs, and he doesn't know which is worse; the idea that he already knows is right, or Shelby making no motion to correct him.

"What are we gonna do when Rachel gets to college?" Shelby's extended silence tells Hiram the last answer that he ever wanted to hear.

"Wake up, Hiram…" Shelby has a lot of opportunity to grow angry at Hiram, at the world as an entire entity, but for the first time, there is pure hostility behind her voice… It makes it surprisingly worse for him to understand that it is not directed towards him in its entirety, "Rachel isn't going to college."

"I'm going to make this better, Shelby…" He promises, but she doesn't sound convinced.

"It's too late for that Hiram," She shakes her head gently. "We aren't the happy family that we used to be. We haven't been in a long time and we're never going to be ever again."

Shelby nods her way out of the kitchen before Hiram can even consider responding just in case he did have anything to say although he didn't… He knows her tactics, he knows that she knows that he will follow her right out and into the open doorway that she is trying to lead him out of… just as she'd anticipated.

There are no questions this time around, there is no reason for him to stall, to keep this up when all it is doing is killing him faster…

This time, when Hiram turns his way out through the front door, he knows that this is it, and for that reason alone, he can't help but to turn back just one, final time.

"Shelby," He breaths, trying to ignore the idea that she is both desperately and blatantly trying to avoid making eye contact with him, "I'm sorry that I couldn't be what you needed."

Her eyes sneak upwards sharply; she offers him no more than one single, curt nod before they turn away once more.

"Me too, Hiram…" She breathes, "Me too."

* * *

><p><em>He'd never lived inside of an actual house before. <em>

_The shack that he had grown up inside of could hardly be considered a home, and upon escaping that, broken down, New York City apartments had becomes his mantra._

_ He can only assume that he had spent all of those years trying to get to where he has always known he should be, and with his three year old clutched inside of his arms as he walks through the first house that he has ever so much as been inside of, let alone owned, he is slowly starting to realize that where he has always known he should be is right here. _

_ "How do you like it, buddy?" He reaches downwards with his free hand, in order to grasp his son's shoulder gently, steadying the boy at his side… Noah is only five years old but already, he is tall enough to reach Hiram's waist… The father is simply grateful that his son had taken after him, and not his mother in terms of height… The boy was going to tower over them all someday._

_But for now, Hiram liked him just the way that he was._

"_It's huge, daddy…" Noah gapes, his eyes widening as he struggles to take in the entirety of the scene before him as if attempting to replicate a map of the house in its entirety based on his one, initial first impression of its interior, "But why is it all empty inside?" _

_ "We still have to move all of our stuff in…" Hiram explains gently, with a careful patience that can only come with the experience of parenting the world's most curious youngsters. _

_ "And you, little man forgot to move your bag inside of the house." Shelby sweeps behind her family, entering through the open doorway in all of her glory, dangling Noah's plastic Batman backpack accusingly from her hand although her eyes remain impossibly soft, "Even though I curiously remember telling you to make sure you did so…"_

_ "Rachel didn't have to take her bag inside!" Noah grabs his backpack with a huff, draping the straps across his tiny shoulders as he folds his arms across his chest in a manner that imitates his mother to the tee._

_ "Bag!" Rachel corrects Noah proudly before either of his parents have the opportunity to do so, squirming inside of her father's arms in order to show her brother the tiny, plush backpack shaped like a pair of ballerina slippers…_

_ It is a bag that has been designed for children much older, much larger than his pint-sized three year old… But mere weeks ago now, Rachel had been embellished upon a shopping trip with her father… she had spotted the device from across the mall where she had begun insisting upon it immediately. _

_ And Rachel's sharp personality was already beginning to seep through in the manifestations of her desires. What Rachel wanted, Rachel got and that's all there was to it. _

_Lord help him and Shelby when she becomes a teenager. _

_The pink bag could easily fit onto a large dog; it blankets Rachel's tiny frame, weighs her down impossibly with a hunch that Shelby insists is going to give her scoliosis one day… But still, Hiram couldn't help himself; his daughter, after all, held a soft spot inside of his heart that he knew could be occupied by nobody else. _

"_Daddy, do we get to live high up?" Rachel's relentless ADD sends her babbling… She is just barely beginning to form coherent sentences in her stereotypical, broken three year old English, but still, it is enough to be understood by the father. _

_ "Not this time honey…" Hiram suppresses a laugh as he raises the child up slightly higher inside of his arms… high up. _

_ New York was all Rachel has ever known; a twenty fourth story apartment on the Upper West Side surrounded by buildings none shorter than fifty floors into the air…_

_ Rachel was a big city girl, and she already had big city dreams, this much is certain, but still, Hiram has the slightest feeling that she would find adjusting to the suburbs easy… _

_They all would._

"_I think we've got some tough housing critics, Shelby…" Hiram turns away from his daughter's disappointed pout and towards his wife. _

_ "That's because they're you're kids…" She shoots him a look of playful accusation, hidden behind the faint outlines of a smile. _

_ "Oh… so now they're my kids, huh?" Hiram's voice drops into a low, playful growl as he bends into a squat and sweeps Noah into his free, open arm with one fell swoop, both of his children trapped against his chest within the prison of his gentle arms, squirming for freedom between a mass of giggles, "There's no way that these little monster's can be mine… They've got their mother's guilt written all over their faces."_

_ He transfers the precious load inside of his arms, passing his children along into their mother's grateful, outstretched hands… But Shelby lingers onto them only briefly before she lowers them back down against the ground on her own accord, freeing her arms to snake across her husband's shoulders where she leans in closer and closer until their lips are finally touching… _

_ Hiram can't help but to smile into her skin, pleading for more, save for the reminder that his two children were currently standing directly behind him… He wasn't quite prepared to scar them for life… he was even less prepared to have the inevitable 'where do babies come from' conversation with either one of them…_

_He pulls abruptly away from Shelby. _

"_Noah honey, how about you take your sister upstairs to go and pick out your bedroom?" Shelby seems to on the same level as her husband, reading his exact thoughts as she bids for a moment of alone time in a manner that both parents know, their son will feed right into. _

_ "You mean I can pick it myself?" He gapes as planned, eyes widening with approval. _

_ "Of course you can…" Shelby nods in her confirmation, watching carefully as Noah tears through the halls with a howl of delight, tiny feet scampering loudly against the hardwood as he rushes up the length of the stairs faster than Hiram has ever seen the boy move, well… ever. _

_ "Noah, bring your sister with you!" Shelby shouts the reminder but her request falls to selectively deaf ears…_

_ "Rachel is sleeping in the bathroom!" Hiram tries desperately to suppress a laugh as her son's taunt echoes back down the stairwell and into the living room… _

_ Neither parent has any inkling of a clue as to where it was that there son has inherited his wit from… It was neither one of them that much is for damn sure… _

_Shelby is just preparing to scold him for his cheek when somebody beats her to it first. _

"_Noah!" Their children erupt into a swarm of energy as Rachel voices her displeasure towards Noah's announcement of the bathroom being converted into her brand new bedroom…_

_ She escapes from her parents dutiful watch with determination written blatantly across her face, chasing her brother down with several careful, uncoordinated steps although she moves much slower than her brother had previously…_

_ It is guaranteed that Noah has already dutifully decided which bedroom will be his… It is more so guaranteed that his pick of the litter had been the master bedroom… Hiram doesn't have the heart to kick him out just yet; he allows the boy to air in his superiority for just a few moments longer. _

"_Noah!" Shelby calls after the boy, "Don't tease your sister or else you will be sleeping in the bathroom until you're thirty!"_

_ Noah's only response is silence… The awaiting parents cannot be certain whether this is a good sign or a bad… _

"_We did good, huh?" Hiram chooses to assume the former, turning back around in an effort to face his wife who merely nods in her agreement as she wraps her arms around the back of his neck so that she can lean closer into his body… _

_ Suddenly, the conflict of who will be sleeping where seems insignificant, obsolete._

_ "We did good," She confirms with a solidifying head nod, her chin tilting upwards slightly until their lips meet… a puzzle piece of a couple; a perfect connection that seemed impossible to replicate or destroy._

_ "We can raise a pretty nice little family here you know…" Hiram dives in for the kill, his eyebrows arching suggestively as he begins to sway slightly on his feet until husband and wife begin a lazy rendition of a ballroom dance within the middle of their empty living room. _

_ "I told you, Hiram," Shelby rolls her eyes expectedly; she was never one to grow deterred by dance, "We can have more kids just as soon as they start popping out of your body."_

_ "I'll get right on that…" He smirks softly; an expression written across his face that he knows will positively melt Shelby's heart quickly into submission. _

_ "Maybe…" She reconsiders slowly… Right on time, Hiram can't help but to silently think, "Maybe after all of this moving if finally over… After I find a job, settle down…"_

_ "You don't need a job," Hiram expresses the obvious although after three children, he knows that he could no longer be certain of anything; financial stability being one of them, "You're Broadway royalty… Besides the worst case scenario is that you have a local theater production drooling for your guidance, practically begging you to go teach them your heavenly ways…"_

_ "Stop…" She's flushing red with embarrassment, just like she always does every time Hiram offers her a compliment… It was just one of the many things that he loved about her. _

_ "I mean it…"_

_ "Do you think that Noah and Rachel would want another brother or sister?" She asks him cautiously, averting her eyes down against his chest as her fingers pick subconsciously at the frayed ends of his t-shirt. _

_ "They don't seem to mind having each other…" _

_Shelby is in the midst of an agreeing nod; practically solidifying the deal in a morally binding contract when the two are separated right on cue, leaping apart from one another alongside a loud, sharp and lingering crash that has come somewhere from upstairs…_

"_I didn't do it!"_

_Noah's voice has guilt written all over it… _

_ "What did you just say about wanting to have more of that?" Shelby's face tilts upwards in her expression of all-knowingness as she silently alludes towards Hiram, that there is still time to reconsider his previous proposal. _

_ "Come on," He avoids the question purposefully with a small, reassuring laugh, "Let's go intervene before our kids destroy our house without us even getting a chance to move into it."_

* * *

><p>It's taken him three hours just to muster up enough courage to pull himself out of his car and still, his only motivation to do so is the understanding that this feeding of his steady descent into madness was in the long run, the only way for him to actually get anywhere at all.<p>

Either way, the odds weren't looking to be particularly high in his favor.

Despite the seemingly clear morning the day had opened into, the late afternoon has arrived alongside a relatively steady-paced rain that he has since deemed typical…

He had finally brought it upon himself to shower, to shave, to change his damn outfit for Christ sake, only to have his Sunday best deteriorating alongside this rapidly diminishing weather.

He could only assume that it was true what they said… The weather didn't necessarily have to be perfect in the moment that you choose to leave this world all behind you after all… But it's already been too long; he should have known from the very beginning that things could only possess a capacity to start after another ends.

He silently believes that he has indeed always known this… he just didn't want to believe it until now that he has no choice.

He shouldn't be here.

Hiram knows that he shouldn't be here, Shelby had made that rather clear to him earlier in the day, but for his intents and purposes, her comments no longer seem of much value… Besides, his planning had been strategic; he's waiting almost all day for Shelby to leave the house, she would not be inside to stop him.

His only fears are in regards to what he shall do should he run into unexpected company in his travels… He had physically watched Shelby peel out of the driveway and speed off in the opposite direction, but he can't help but to worry about perhaps running into his in-laws, or Krista, or worse yet, Noah, any of which would inevitably derail his plans just as quickly as they had been formulated.

He had left the scene of his former home only once since he had been forcibly removed from its interior hours ago now, and although he had ensured to make it fast – a casual trip to the bank, a note slipped inside of the mailbox of his lawyer's office which the man was certain not to find until it was too late – it was still plenty of time for a car to slip into the garage unnoticed, its patrons to make themselves comfortable inside of his house.

The interior of the home appears to be silence at first glance as he slips quietly into the foyer for the second time that day alone, but he doesn't make any risks… Instead, he moves with a handful of steady, carefully orchestrated steps deeper inside of his own home…

His twenty foot trek towards the kitchen door goes undeterred; the exact opposite in fact, as he declares his path a success, his home empty save for himself…

Still, he finds himself subconsciously retaining a strict silence in his movements, if only not to disrupt the ghosts about him, floating throughout this home…

Because Lord knows that there are plenty.

He falsely assumes that by taking his time in his carefully orchestrated, dutifully planned motions, his intentions may come with slightly more ease… He isn't entirely certain why he'd ever assumed this to be true as he shuffles towards the kitchen table, still cluttered with the same mess that he had recognized from earlier that morning as his wife had left behind…

Hiram seats himself down at the table; his hands are trembling, breaths emitting as loud, shaky gasps as he weaves his hands through his freshly trimmed hair… The moisture from the rain outside, still clinging to the fabric of his jacket seeps outwards and onto the paperwork below, damaging it irreparably, but he doesn't seem to take notice.

All of their implications still remain.

He hadn't wasted much of time in scribbling what he's since deemed a half-assed note to his wife… There were better options than this, he believed…

He places the brief letter down atop the paperwork to ensure that she would find it upon his return… She deserves more, she has always deserved more, but still, he couldn't bring himself to leave her without one last word; even if they were deliberate, robotic, expressing no more than his ultimate intentions and simply leaving it at that.

There is nothing more for him to say… He can only hope that one day, she will possess the capacity to understand this, to understand any of this.

Besides, by that point, all eyes would ultimately be on the prize, and God knows that his disheartening scribble pleading for an apology that he didn't deserve was not that prize… Not nearly as much as his guaranteed $500,000 life insurance policy nestled safely behind it was anyway.

When Hiram finally does stand, he leaves his evidence of premeditation resting firmly on the table behind him.

_First Degree_ – the thought comes to him with the slightest of laughs towards the concept, but the smile is wiped from his face almost immediately.

The basement of the Corcoran home is not a particularly pleasant place to be… It had never been completely finished like all of their neighbors' surrounding them; converted into a toy room for the kids, a bachelor pad for exhausted husbands to attempt and revisit their youth on the weekends…

No, upon moving to Lima, their basement has become nothing more than a storage unit for all of the things that still, two years later, Shelby and Hiram have yet to get around to unpacking… And now, probably never would.

The kids have always been strictly forbidden to step foot inside of the basement, they knew that, and a sturdy latch lock at the top of the door beyond Noah's reach on even the highest stool ensured it… Shelby's mortal terror of basements has always ensured Hiram to be the only one to have ever made the trek down the treacherous stairs.

It has always seemed the ideal location to hide even your deepest of secrets, but Hiram knows just as well as the rest of them that even those had a tendency towards escaping sometimes.

Hiram Corcoran has always been a big gun man.

Hell, growing up in the Deep South, everybody he had ever known had been big gun people; men, women, even most of the children over the age of ten or so… sometimes even younger than that.

His friends had been sport hunters or classically trained, sharp shooters destined for a life of honorably defending their countries or new husbands or lonely widows looking to protect themselves and their own…

Still, there were others; the ones that simply enjoyed sitting on lawn chairs in their backyards shooting pellets at anything that moved… Lord help you if you found yourself wondering into the wrong backyard at the wrong time… Hiram had learned this early.

His father's favorite particular hobby had been spending his days getting drunk on the back deck of their ten acre backyard, throwing his empties into the air in an attempt to see whether or not he could still shoot them down in even his deepest of drunken hazes…

He should have always known himself to be destined for nothing less… Genetics ran deeper than hope, his father had always told him, and despite insistencies otherwise, there was nothing out there that he could ever find thicker than blood.

But if there was one thing in the entirety of this world that Hiram could say that he was glad his father had taught him, it was the man's emphasis on the necessity of protection… Hiram had a family to uphold, a position as the man of their home to defend.

He had purchased the .357 Magnum Revolver following Shelby's moving in with him into his dingy old apartment complex right off of the Bruckner Boulevard cutting through Hunts Point in the South Bronx… Needless to say, it had not exactly been the nicest of neighborhoods to have lived in.

But the rent had been cheap, and the company perfect, and finally, after the small family had met the means by which to move into the city, and had had their first child, Hiram voiced no regrets towards his decision to keep the small weapon permanently hidden in the back of his closet….

But still, that didn't mean that he had ever felt himself confident enough to tell Shelby about it… Still, years following the initial purchase, she has no idea of the small prize burrowed deep and hidden within the same space that her children slept at night… nobody did.

Hiram decides to collect the ammunition first.

His hands are shaking so badly that by the time he arrives to the actual weapon - across the room from the bullets by which make it so deadly – he has already lost several of the vital shells… He can hear them clattering to the cement floor below, but never makes a single move to retrieve them.

For his intents and purposes, he knows, he will only truly need one, and clutched inside of his hands, Hiram finds plenty.

The box is nestled inside of an old, dusty shoebox that rests against the top shelf beneath his old hunting equipment; thick jackets designed to withstand temperatures that rival those of the arctic, camouflage designed to make you nearly identical to your surroundings in a heartbeat…

Of course, he hasn't used these in years… Of course, he has never used what lies beneath it, but there's a first time for everything, he guesses.

He loads the bullets carefully into the cylinder, loading each chamber in its entirety… He doesn't want to miss, even what most may consider the easiest shot in the world, because with his luck, he knows that a swift round of Russian Roulette wouldn't end well to his favor.

He has to eliminate ever obstacle along his path for fear that should he miss on the first opportunity, he won't be able to muster up the courage to go ahead and try it again.

The true struggle, Hiram quickly finds, comes ultimately upon his retreat back up the length of the basement stairs and into the kitchen… What he had previously assumed would be the easy part.

He'd thought wrong; he should have known, he always thought wrong.

Embracing his final steps, Hiram finds himself rounding into circles alongside the idea that he can't seem to think of a single room in the entirety of the house courteous enough for him to commit to this inevitable mess… in more meanings than just one.

'_Jesus'_, He can't help but to think to himself, _'The trouble really will only stop after I'm six feet under.'_

He's pacing about his home's lower level, and although he eyes the stairs leading upwards towards the top landing, he doesn't risk wandering up there… He refuses to trail past his children's bedroom for fear of being swallowed alive by their sheer potential… potential that he knows, he wouldn't have ever managed to catch even on his best god damned day, let alone today which was his… well he isn't entirely certain what exactly _this_ was…

The words _last_, _final_, _ultimate_, seem so harsh, too harsh, but the more he considers it, the more he is starting to realize that there may not actually be another means around it…

He fears his obligation towards his children, which he assumes, is what has landed himself in this position in the first place, but suddenly, he finds himself fearing the burden by which he is choosing to leave them with, the idea that after today, it will be on his hands, the idea that his children will have to learn exactly why it is that they should be living each and every one of their days as if it were their last…

They're still too impossibly young to realize that they should, because one day it will…. But Hiram is already starting to get the feeling that they have since been made more than aware of this notion by now.

For all of the walking in circles that he has done, he's not entirely surprised when ultimately, he finds himself settled inside of car in the garage… He doesn't bother to close the garage door behind him; if he's lucky, somebody will manage to find him before his family can, sparing them at the very least, that much.

He settles his body firmly against the Honda's leather interior, begging his muscles to relax, but they remain stiff as a board despite even his best efforts… Tears lace the undersides of his eyes; for every swell of confidence that swells across his body, the crest of the wave befalls him after mere seconds; it flattens, flickers, diminishes in its entirety.

His body is shaking visibly, palms sweaty as he juggles the loaded gun between his hands… He wouldn't be entirely surprised if he blows off his own damn foot before he has the opportunity to do any true damage

_'This is right,'_ He murmurs under his breath, struggling to convince even himself, _'They will be better off without me… They all are going to be better off without me.'_

The more he says it, the less sure he is… But despite the idea that he isn't entirely certain that this means to an end was particularly right, the more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself certain that it was at the very least, where they were all at… at this point, anyway.

He knows that he can sit here and analyze the reasons for it all until he's blue in the face; but at this point, he knows that that is the reason that it all has to happen this way The more he stalls, the more borrowed time that he finds himself running short on.

For him, it has never been a question but a guarantee; he has been destined to leave since before he'd even arrived.

There's a newfound confidence behind his motions as his white-knuckled fingers clutch even tighter about the cool metal of the revolver's grip handle, the voice playing repetitively inside of his head reminding him that while fear is logical, release will be wonderful.

_Prepare yourself_, he insists, _prepare for the next life, because the previous will be much better off without you in it._

The gun clicks inside of his palms, his thumb subconsciously releasing the hammer that sends his golden ticket out of here securely into place as he simultaneously lodges the muzzle securely underneath his chin; multitasking, he thinks… killing two birds with one stone.

The irony might have caused him to laugh should he have been in any other situation.

The metal is cool beneath the skin of his throat, but still, his body registers it as a burning heat… He pretends that he can feel the fire, the spark, the burning, residual fire characteristic of a recently discharged weapon.

In reality, he is only praying that he won't be able to feel much of anything at all.

He considers what will happen to him should there be some incredible injustice in heaven and he was not welcomed in… Was there such a thing as a no vacancy behind those pearly white gates?

Would they take him even if there wasn't?

He struggles to identify whether or not he will still be able to watch over his family should he be forced to settle for rising towards anything other than the very sky…The reminder that they will probably be better off if he can't allows the muscles about his right index finger to tense on its own accord…

It is only after he finally pulls the trigger, that his mind manages to fall completely blank.

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><p><strong>Readerforlife<strong>** – As always, the most gratitude passed over towards your general direction :)**

**Becky**** – Thank you so much for the review! Rachel's chapters will pop up interwoven with Noah's (which is up next) It will probably start about a week or so after she's begun chemo but trust me, she will still be doing a lot of adjusting by that point trying to get used to this new life. **

**Amandaes417**** – Aw, good I'm glad you liked them, there will be more coming up I promise. Thank you so much for your amazing words, as always of course.**

**Anon**** – Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying, thanks for giving it an opportunity, I'm honored!**

**Miee**** – Thank you! Noah is coming up next so don't you worry. **

**Baygirl123**** – Noah telling the glee club will pop up in the next chapter I promise! Thank you as always for the review!**

**Gleessam**** – Can't begin to thank you enough, I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far.**

**Ballerina03**** – Ahh, sorry to keep you waiting, Rachel and Noah are going to be discussing what to do about the glee club coming up next… Haha I just ended up adding things in here and there really, so I just ended up filling little bits and pieces into that last chapter until it was as long as a text book, hope you didn't mind. I finish school on the 24****th**** and after that, this story will be all that I have to worry about and I'm itching to start cranking it out so start the countdown! I think I enjoy writing these chapters more than you enjoy reading them so don't you worry… I have no idea how I'm going to end this story quite yet, usually I don't even know what's going to happen in the next chapter until I start writing it so it will probably be a while before I come to any decisions… I'm thinking that it might be around half way finished now so maybe around fifty chapters all together give or take a few. I'm hoping to have it done by September before I start grad school. Thanks for the review! **


	26. Noah Corcoran November 2011 Part I

**So I was planning on making this chapter a bit longer, but it got a little out of control length wise (as all of my chapters have been doing lately) so I split it into a few parts, actually… It will probably end up being about three, maybe four. I've got a few plans ahead for Noah that need to be laid out so this is just them getting started. **

**Anyway, the bad news is that I broke my arm on Monday being stupid. I had surgery on Tuesday but am starting to learn that typing isn't so easy with only one hand… Luckily, I had most of this chapter written out already so that it was just a matter of editing, and don't worry, I won't let my dumbassery slow me down, I'll figure something out soon.**

**Also, I am currently trapped in a Percocet haze so any grammatical/spelling errors I am blaming on my inability to see straight as of late.**

**That is all, thank you guys as always for being amazing readers it means the world!**

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – November 2011  
><em>(Part I)<em>

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><p>He's not entirely certain who had come up with the tradition of being flowers to the ailing, but the more he thought about it the stupider it seemed.<p>

He felt stupid carrying them through the halls of Lima Memorial hospital, felt as if everyone was eyeing him as if he were a damn fool… Of course, maybe he was… or maybe it had more to do with the clumps of dirt still dangling off of the stems of the daisies that he had plucked unceremoniously from his elderly neighbor's garden mere minutes ago, simply for a means of actually having something to bring to his sister as she embarked upon her fourth day of chemo…

Suddenly, these stupid little white flowers didn't seem like the appropriate gift to have clutched between his trembling hands, they didn't seem to embody the absolute symbol of strength that he'd anticipated upon emphasizing to his sister… They didn't seem to make him any braver, her any healthier…

If anything, they were now only making things worse; an idea exemplified by the nurses lounging against the front stations of Rachel's inpatient unit giving him hell for even considering bringing such filthy objects into a ward packed full of children whose immune systems have been chewed up and spit right back out again by a few bags of cytotoxic chemicals…

"Hey…" Noah sneaks quietly into Rachel's room, slinking into the corner unit as quickly as humanly possible in an effort to escape the notorious wrath of the head RN about these parts – Gizelle…

Gizelle Williams; taller than him by at least half a foot, heavier than him by two hundred pounds minimum and about five hundred times as intimidating…

"I heard you getting in trouble…" She reciprocates his greeting with a gentle poke towards the idea that he had barely made it into her room in one piece, "You better watch out, Gizelle got thrown up on twice today, she's already on the war path…" She gives him heed warning; of course, by now it is already too late. "What did you do this time; try to pick up a nurse or something?"

"Not today," He shakes her off, but leaves the option on the table, "But speaking of, who's that new chick that sits behind the desk? Becky, I think her name was…"

"Don't start." Rachel rolls her eyes through the tiniest spoonful of lime green Jello; the only thing that she has been willing to risk eating since the beginning of her treatment cycle… Noah pretends not to notice the blatant fact that her already slender frame is diminishing rapidly in front of his very eyes already and it hasn't even been a week yet…

He can't help but to wonder nervously what his sister will look like after a month of this, a year… the few years that her doctor's have already warned them all that this might take.

Noah tries not to think about this. He has gotten along so far trying not to think about much of anything anymore.

Noah flashes her one of his most genuine of smiles through her sister's sarcasm, identical to his own… He has a great smile, his mother has always told him this much although he can only assume that as her mother, that was just something that she had to say to him…

He rarely believes her when he does hear it, but still, she promises that on the rare occasion that the joy on his lips actually does manage to reach his eyes, he can shine brighter than even the sun.

He can only pretend to be embarrassed by her gushing so much before he can do nothing more than to accept the fact that this is something that he actually enjoys hearing.

"Nice flowers…" Rachel follows his ministrations carefully, eyeing him as he gathers the handful of broken stems into a small Styrofoam cup on her bedside table; the same one that she had been sipping water from mere moments before…

Not anymore, she can only guess.

"Uh, thanks…" He isn't entirely sure whether or not she is complimenting him or else poking fun, "I kind of nabbed them out of Mrs. Greenley's front yard this morning so…"

"She's gonna kill you…" Rachel speaks through the weakest of laughs and a slight shake of her head, but at the same time, her voice embodies a tone of seriousness that makes him unable but to help feeling as if he is being scolded by his mother. "You've been on her shit list since you were six years old."

"She's like 99 years old…" Noah reminds Rachel of the feebleness of the elderly woman that has lived alone besides them as long as they had been inside of that house… She couldn't catch Noah when he had been five years old, twelve years ago now… there was no way in hell that she would be able to do so now. "She can't touch me… unless of course, I want her to."

"Please, I already have these drugs making my stomach churn enough all ready…" Rachel eyes him in a look of disgust, her jaw setting and brows lowering in a manner that has her resembling Shelby to such an exact that Noah very nearly finds himself recoiling in fear…

Of course, Noah can't really blame her too much… History had him placing the blame of every broken window, every ball in the backyard, or every loud noise that Eleanor Greenley had ever complained to Shelby about on his sister… Rachel had taken the brunt of his punishments for over a year until finally, once she had been confined by illness and the complaints never stopped or even so much as slowed down, Shelby had realized exactly what her clever, albeit slightly sadistic son had really been up to behind her back.

"You know, I really hate you sometimes…" Rachel wags a disappointed finger towards his general direction, rolling her eyes towards his insistencies upon turning absolutely everything into a sexual reference. "Actually, I take that back… I hate you all the time."

"That's not true," Noah laughs only because he recognizes her words as the lie that they are. "You love me and you know it."

"Yeah, you're lucky…" Her arms cross firmly over her chest as she sinks further into her bed… Noah can't help but to suddenly wonder whether or not she is at the absolute brink of exhaustion yet… Probably, he reasons, after all, it isn't even seven o'clock in the morning yet, and already, it appears as though his sister has already been up for hours.

At the very least, he knows that he's damn exhausted and he hasn't even spent his morning, and the past three at that being pumped full of drugs designed to literally peel apart his body piece by piece, from the very inside out.

"Where's mom?" He changes the subject abruptly as he reaches over in an effort to pick apart Rachel's barely-touched breakfast tray for scraps, which Lord knows, there are plenty of… The only thing that she has so much as touched was that cup of Jello that she hadn't even finished.

Rachel chooses not to mention the obvious as her brother continues to sort through her plate of eggs… If anything, Noah knows that she will be grateful; she might even try to pass it off as herself actually eating for a change simply to get their mother off of her back about consuming enough food to keep her energy up during chemo… Even if Shelby does know as much as both him and Rachel do that eating is the absolute last thing going through her mind these days.

"Getting breakfast, I think… She should be back soon." Rachel settles in her explanation, seemingly satisfied with its vagueness so that Noah can't tell whether or not Shelby has retreated willingly, or if Rachel had kicked her out herself. "You usually miss the breakfast rush though, what's got you out and about so early? What, are you actually going to school today?"

"Yeah…" Noah informs her as if to pretend like it's no big deal that he hasn't been to school in almost a week, as if his sister isn't just as aware of this fact as he is. "I figured it might be time I showed my face over there before everybody begins to think that I went A.W.O.L. or something… I think that half the school has been expecting me to just up and run for a while now."

"Are you going to glee this morning?" Noah's face sinks; he had been banking on Rachel avoiding this seemingly obvious question all along… Of course he should have known that she would never have forgotten something as important to her as the glee club… not even for a second.

"Yeah…" He hesitates before answering, his voice soft, airy… He knows what's coming next… he knows exactly what she is going to ask him to do.

They can't keep this from them forever, Noah knows this, but just a little bit longer doesn't seem like too bad a deal.

"Good morning, Rachel…"

A nurse shuffles into the room, mutlitasking expertly as she clutches a full IV bag beneath one arm whilst simultaneously maneuvering the familiar, robotic looking vitals system that looks to be heavier than she is behind her… The task looks difficult, even being on wheels.

Noah releases a quiet sigh full of relief towards the idea that he has been saved from addressing Rachel's inquires regarding the glee club… for now, that is.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fine…" Rachel shrugs in her half-assed response, eyeing her brother in a manner that projects onto Noah that she will not be willing to forget where it was that their conversation had left off on.

"No nausea?" Their conversation moves fluidly, Noah can tell just by the way that she speaks that Rachel's nurse might as well be reading off of a script at this point, "Headache, pain, anything at all?"

"Not yet." She offers her a gentle smile as if to prove this idea; the nurse can only nod in her return… Rachel has been lucky; it has been four days and still, she has yet to experience the characteristic aches and pains of chemotherapy…

She has been lucky so far, but this family knew as much as the others that eventually, there comes a point in time in which luck runs out.

"Alright, then I'm gonna put off giving you that extra dose of Zofran just yet," They move in synchronized motions with each other, the nurse doesn't even have to speak, doesn't even have to describe a single move that she's making and Rachel is obliging diligently; arm out, falling submissive towards the blood pressure cuff squeezing at her bicep, mouth open, accepting the plastic-capped thermometer. "Just gonna check your vitals for now, okay?"

The small group falls into a distinct silence as they allow the woman before them to work diligently, reading Rachel from very inside out…

He searches for a distraction, searches for a measure by which to, at the very least, pretend not to notice every time that Rachel squirms with discomfort, or every time a machine echoes in an unfamiliar beep, registers an unfamiliar number…

He finds solace in a magazine, opening to a random page although to be completely honest, he isn't even entirely sure what reading material he has even grabbed… His eyes never reach the actual words before they attract naturally towards the slight movement directing directly outside of Rachel's hospital room through the small window that separates the actual room from the hallway outside…

They're interns; Noah has spent enough time inside of hospitals to recognize this much; he can tell by the dazed look in their eyes, nervous confusion and faces too young, not yet pained enough to show an experienced doctor… They're scribbling nervously in their notebooks, glancing up towards where Rachel has been briefly turned into a human Christmas tree with all the wires and tubes she's currently got dangling off of her…

One eyes Noah; he looks away almost immediately, but nudges his fellow patrons besides him in an effort to let them know that they're being watched… A fishbowl life… he used to not mind that so much either, but that time has come and gone.

They're pupils flash towards him, his response is almost natural as he raises his hand upwards and extends a pointed middle finger in their general direction.

"Noah…" Rachel seems to have been the only one save for the handful of interns – scurrying instantaneously out of sight – that has caught the motion.

She scolds him, her words instinctive as the thermometer that she has previously been shuttling beneath her tongue slips and falls to her chest before the reading has so much as had an opportunity to have been made.

"Mouth closed, honey…" The nurse reminds her as if this is something that she doesn't already know… The older woman doesn't even glance downwards from her fiddling with the array of medications that dangle above Rachel's head like some sort of fucked up mobile.

The longer Noah stares, the clearer he can envision its contents inside, dropping steadily – drip by drip – directly into the prominent central venous catheter drilled deeply into the center of Rachel's chest, extending directly into her very heart.

"Sorry…" Rachel defies the nurse's reminder immediately as her mouth tilts upwards in her apology, jostling the thermometer's readings all over again… Noah can't help but to eye her with a laugh that she returns with but a small shake of her head as if to tell him not to start with her… Of course, the upturning corners of her lips tell him not to take her too seriously.

"Okay Rachel, everything seems to be in order." Rachel is packed up almost as quickly as she had been put together in the first place… Swiftness, Noah has learned, was just another measure of hospital productivity… It must be why Rachel is on the move all the time; she has been raised on this, now it was just up to the rest of them to catch up. "I'll be back in an hour or so, but if you start to feel nauseous, give me a call, I'll give you that extra dose of Zofran."

"Okay…" She nods into silence, the last lingering sounds of the woman leaving the room fading into nothingness.

Noah can see Rachel trying desperately to latch onto his eyes, but he's avoiding her strategically…

His eyes adjust towards the magazine splayed between his hands, but the entirety of his concentration is focused solely on his peripherals, glancing towards Rachel as she tries desperately to get her eyes to focus beneath his own.

"How long are you gonna pretend to be reading just so that you can avoid talking to me, Noah?" She reads him like a book, although Noah is more than certain that this isn't a particularly difficult task to accomplish.

"How do you know that I'm pretending?" Noah stalls; he knows exactly how she knows this, but he plays on the promise of an explanation in an effort to procure more time to figure out what it is that he is going to say when she asks him to perform the inevitable.

"Because I've never seen you read a day in your life," She shrugs; valid point number one. "Plus, you're holding your _Good Housekeeping_ magazine upside down."

He curses himself for not even finding the strength to pull a decent cover story together as he eyes the cover of his reading material for the first time, only to find that he is indeed, clutching onto a magazine that his mother had undoubtedly snagged from the waiting room down the hall.

He is starting to feel the flood rising up around his feet already… The water reaches his chin in a matter of seconds, and for a little while, he is so convinced that this metaphor for his own self-destruction that he has created inside of his head has become a reality that he struggles to so much as inhale.

He is halfway to waiting for a nurse to find him dead on the floor when his sister pulls him out of his thoughts and onto dry land once more.

"Don't make getting distant a habit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Noah blinks in his confusion, his eyes rising to meet Rachel's for what seems like the first time in hours.

"People are starting to get worried, you know…" Her explanation is vague, indirect, but still, he understands exactly what she means… He retains his silence, but only out of the acknowledgment that she is so much stronger than him, so much better at facing her problems head on than her brother – who can only turn and run at the first chance that he can get – ever is. "We can't keep avoiding texts and phone calls from our friends asking where we are forever."

"Our friends…" The sentence slips airily from his tongue… It sounds almost foreign although he knows that in the two months that he has since spent with the glee club, he has learned more than even a decade of football… He can only assume that this is simply because the idea of him and Rachel having friends that actually intertwine with one another is still an astonishingly new concept. "You mean the glee club…"

"I figured that was implied…" She shrugs, and just as he's struggling to wrap his mind around her words, he finds them slowly seeping into the innermost depths of his very brain.

"Wait…" He pauses strategically, "Are you… are you asking me to tell them?"

"I'd do it myself but I'm a little… tied down at the moment." She tells him this as if he needs reminding, pointing up the length of the line that extends from her chest and up its length towards the various array of chemicals, meshing together to enter into her body… He pretends that he cannot envision each and every drop as little knights in shining armor, riding on miniature horses and shoving spears through each and every leukemia cell flooding through her body, "You know, to a pole…"

"How… how am I supposed to do it?" He struggles to wrap his head around where to so much as begin.

"I think that this is just one of those things that you just have to kind of…" Rachel shrugs, "I don't know, do."

"So what… do I just walk in there with a sign strapped to my chest that says that you have leukemia?" His words register as harsh without him particularly meaning for them to, and the second that he sees her recoil, his muscles stiffen with regret.

"I'm sorry…"

"No, it's good…" She recovers quickly and smiles… Noah wonders how it is that she still manages to bring the expression onto her face after everything that she has already been through… It was a nice reminder; she is the reason that he can ever manage to keep it cool even when things were at their worst. "Maybe you should talk it out beforehand so that you don't do something stupid like walk into glee rehearsal with a sign strapped to your chest that says I have leukemia."

"Jesus, I don't know how to friggen do this…" He rambles instinctually; a habit that both him, as well as his sister has picked up from their notoriously nervous mother. "I barely even know half the people in there. I'm still getting used to the idea of not throwing Slushees into their face s every time I walk past them and now I'm supposed to go up there and tell them that their star soloist has cancer… Maybe I should just get Finn to do it… Or Schuester, I think mom told him about it the other day while she was at the school…

"Noah, can you go get mom?"

"Maybe I'll write them a letter or something…" He doesn't hear her. His head is too busy sorting through all of the options, all of the possibilities, all of the consequences… He is so busy focusing on himself that he can't even recognize the most important thing. "Is there a song that I can sing… like a 'my sister has cancer' song or something, do those exist? Or maybe I can just write one and…"

"Noah!" Her voice raises, but it is not her volume, but the choking sob that echoes from the back of her throat that catches his attention… His eyes raise and for the first time in minutes, he is not thinking about what he is going to say to the glee club, but the idea that Rachel had gone from a steady shade of white, to a deep, pale green in under two seconds flat. "Get mom… please."

"Oh crap…" Noah shoots instantly to his feet, but after that, he is entirely out of ideas; he freezes on the spot.

"Please, Noah…" Tears are welling along the undersides of her eyes; a steady layer of sweat has already begun to form across the brow line of her rapidly dampening hair as she hunches forwards into a seated position, her arm rapped protectively across her midsection as if to protect herself from what is inside; what they both know she cannot prevent. "Please go get mom."

"She's all the way down in the cafeteria, Rach… I'll never make it in time." He begins to scramble, searching for something that could be used for her to spew the contents of her very guts inside of…

Flashbacks shoot across the backs of his eyes in his frustrated search… He doesn't linger on her confusion, doesn't blame her for her lack of understanding towards their seemingly obvious time constraints… He knows that Rachel cannot possibly remember what it was like the last time.

But that doesn't mean that he doesn't.

So while she can't possibly comprehend why it is that it had taken a couple of days for her medications to run their course through her veins and make her go from feeling fine to wanting to positively die at the flip of a light switch, he can…

And while she can't remember what it feels like to be incapacitated by nausea, and crippling headaches, and painful stabs at your heart every time you wipe a hand through your hair only to be reminded that there's none left, he sure as hell remembers what it's like to watch it.

Her back begins to heave dangerously; dramatic up and downwards motions that make it so that he can practically see the bile as it churns and pushes itself backwards and into her throat…

And still, Noah remains empty handed… He is such a failure as a brother that he can't even find her something to freaking puke inside of…

Maybe he would have been better off leaving her to their mother's devices after all.

"Shit… Shit! Isn't this supposed to be a freaking hospital, don't they have anything to put this shit in!" He yells in his frustrations, but regrets the action almost immediately when he sees Rachel flinch atop the already overwhelming pressures of trying to contain the contents of her stomach long enough to find something other than her lap to deposit it inside of.

"Here!" Victory builds inside of his face as his eyes catch the familiar pink bucket resting atop the corner bureau… A stupid place to keep such a crucial device if you asked him, "Here, I got you Rach, I got you…"

She doesn't have time to thank him as he throws the emesis basin beneath her chin just in time for her to bury her face inside of it and explode…

He hears the noise of the crude, heavy liquid hitting the bottom of the thick plastic and doesn't even have to look at it before his own stomach begins to swell with unease as well… He tries his hardest to turn away without Rachel realizing as to not offend her, but he was rather certain that at the moment, Rachel wasn't focusing on much of anything other than the bottom of the basin as everything that she has ever consumed since kindergarten streams upwards and out of her mouth.

Noah can feel the heat radiating off of her body as she presses herself subconsciously closer into him, just looking for a little bit of human contact in an effort to help get her through this sudden setback…

Her hands are trembling violently as they grasp at the covers below her, just looking for something to hold onto, to keep herself from falling face first into the pool of her own sick resting against her hip… The thin sheets slip beneath her shuddering form, to instable to support her… Her arms extend for the bedrails, but they are much too far away, the plastic edges of the basin are already buckling beneath the weight of her sick to begin with…

"Breathe Rachel, okay… Just breathe…" He tries to instruct her as best as he knows how, using the rough guidelines that his mother has imprinted into his head every time that she has ever taken care of him while he was sick… His hands grip her shoulders, holding her protectively into his chest while his free arm grabs at her hand closest to him… She tenses only briefly before allowing herself to relax inside of him… he only squeezes tighter. "I've got you okay… I've got you; let it out… let it all out Rach."

Minutes pass that feel like hours, Noah would swear to it, but it is only after Rachel has finally paused in her motions, managing a single, steadying breath of oxygen that coincides with her stomach pausing cooperatively; a peaceful still that emphasizes its struggles to realign itself with the rest of the world once more.

"Thank you, Noah…" Rachel manages, her head lifting slightly against the pink life preserver below her as she attempts to wipe at the sweat and saliva now coating the rough perimeter of her mouth… There's a presence inside of her hair that makes Noah cringe… Suddenly, the idea that cancer drugs are designed specifically to make hair fall out, simply so that the patients don't have to worry about having to get something caught inside of it every time they spend their days tossing their cookies.

The idea almost makes him laugh, but the understanding that the sister clutched below him between his two hands sees this as nothing more than a very distinct reality practically forces him to swallow it.

"Don't worry about it, Rae…" He reaches over for a cup of water – the one not containing his rebelliously stolen flowers – without releasing her once, directing the straw against her lips… She winces briefly at the idea of putting anything inside of her stomach right now, even water, but she gives in when Noah refuses to relent in his persistence… "I'll take care of you okay? I'll do whatever I can… I'll tell the glee club, don't worry… I'll change things… I'll change everything."

"I like the way you are." Leave it up to his sister to compliment him even while she's puking inside of his arms…. "Don't change on my account, okay?"

She speaks in a manner that allows him to understand what she truly means, allows him to recognize the idea that she is terrified of him becoming a worse version of himself simply because of circumstances that he knows is completely devoid of his own, personal control.

Sometimes he truly cannot wrap his head around how it is that the two of them could have ever possibly bred from the same body… Not when she was so much softer than him, so much kinder… Not when she was so much stronger.

These days, Rachel is just about the only thing left out there that keeps him from believing that the whole world is dead all around him.

"Jeez… What the hell do you think it takes to be a superhero these days anyway, huh?" Noah jokes with a soft laugh as he appoints himself the task of cleaning the mess that Rachel has left behind, moving carefully from her bed and disposing of the filthy basin before her before handing her a handful of wet towels so that she can dab gently at the residue, evidence of her illness, prominent against her skin, her clothes, everywhere…

"I don't know…" She concedes, falling against her bed in defeat, wrapping the folded towel across her eyes in an effort to block out the painful, revolting sunlight.

"But you seem to have got that pretty figured out…"

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><p>He's never felt more uncomfortable from within the walls of his high school before in his life…<p>

And he knows that nobody would ever argue that he has had some pretty damn uncomfortable moments… and then some.

The difference between then and now however, is that his absence this time around, has been shrouded by mystery… Nobody seems to know why it is they haven't seen the self-proclaimed king of William McKinley High School since last Friday night's football game…

He is exposed inside of the open hallway; Noah has nothing to hide behind, no secrets to pretend that he doesn't hear whispering softly behind his back…

He avoids his classmate's stares, the shouts of his teammates looking for answers towards where he's been all week, the corny pick up lines that he knows the Cheerio's have been waiting for days to use on him.

He wonders how long he will be able to tolerate the solitude of being his own best friend.

His isolation is self-inflictive, and serves alongside the painful realization towards just how wrong everything in his life has been going lately, and even more so, how it was that nobody seems to care about _why_ he has been absent, but why their star running back went to one little glee competition and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth.

He is just thinking that if he is going to turn around and go back, now is the time to do it when he is called back…

He can't help but to groan in the disappointment of a missed opportunity.

"Yo Corcoran, where the hell have you been all week?"

Charlie Conway and Chris Stephenson aren't exactly the last two people on his football team that he wants to see right now, but judging on how he doesn't really want to see much of anybody at all, they're pretty damn close.

"Dude, you haven't been to practice all week, Tanaka's pissed; he's threatening not to play you tonight!"

"Oh shit…" Noah sighs; he's forgotten about football entirely in the haze of the past week… He closes his eyes; he can't remember what it was like to stand inside of a room that was spinning all around him… He thought that he would be used to the motions by now… He had thought wrong. "The game…"

"What do you mean, _oh shit_, man!" Noah attempts to wave the two off, tries to express indirectly that he doesn't want to talk right now, but the more he thinks about it, the more he understands that if he can't bring himself to give a shit, how the hell is he supposed to expect anybody else to. "Puck tonight is the semi's, man. We've been waiting for this game all year long and we need our star to actually show up… We go to States if we win this, man, so don't fuck it up!"

"I know that man, thanks!" His head explodes with a building anger that has his younger peers recoiling violently… A week's worth of frustrations are projecting upon two people that he knows can't possibly understand, that he knows could never understand… They don't deserve it, he knows this, but it happens anyway.

The hall falls into a nearly deafening silence as Noah's voice carries across all of their heads… He can feel each and every one of the people inside of that hallway staring directly at him, yet the only thing that he can seem to bring himself to stare at are his own two feet…

"I've got this, okay…" His voice quiets significantly as he leans forwards towards his two teammates, but this doesn't seem to matter; every ear inside of that hallway is poised forwards, waiting for his next move.

Noah's face swells with frustration… He literally feels as if his eyes will pop out of his very skull if he sits inside of this hall any longer, struggling to determine his next move…. The only thing that he can think to do now is raise his hands in defeat and turn away, back down the length of the hall.

"Where the hell are you going?" He can hear his name being called back, but he ignores the motions, walking a straight line down the hallway as kids before him part as if he were freaking Moses or something wading through the Red Sea…

"I have glee." Noah calls behind him; he doesn't so much as turn around.

"What are you still doing singing with those fucking fags, Corcoran?" He hears his teammate yelling back towards him, but Noah is too tired at this point to even bring himself to get angry. "Anyway, I thought that shit was over… I heard you guys choked it big time at your competition."

"Whatever…" His voice is quiet, defeated… he wonders whether or not anybody has even heard him.

"Just make sure you don't go 0 and 2 on these big games, do you hear me, Corcoran?" His words carry across the entirety of the school, Noah is certain of it, "We have a lot more than a shitty glee competition on the line here!"

He ignores them; he has to, they can't understand that he has so, so much more than a shitty glee competition on the line here…

They can't understand that he has a promise to his sister to uphold.

* * *

><p>His reception inside of the choir room is significantly more welcome than that by which has greeted him inside of the rest of the school…<p>

He knows that he should have anticipated this; the pattern has seemed rather repetitive as of late… Sometimes he can't help but to find himself wondering why the hell he ever even chose to bring himself anywhere else.

"Puck, man," He is feeling significantly more comfortable almost immediately upon stepping into the choir room, as one of his closest friends ever since elementary school pulls him into a quick, one-armed hug that he immediately reciprocates, his hand slapping against the muscular back of Mike Chang before he pulls away, "How's it going?"

"Dude, where the hell have you been?" His fellow football player steps before him, except Matt Rutherford is inches taller than even Noah; he is miniaturized by his large frame, "We've been worried sick."

"Yeah, a phone call or two would be nice." Mercedes Jones sounds accusing, but the more Noah is getting to know his teammate, the more he is starting to realize that this is simply how she deals with stress, tension, worry…

He's almost honored… although he is certain that this would be the correct word for it.

"When did you get rescued from the gremlins in Romania?" The swarm of blonde hair that curtains his eyes as he feels a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around his waist tells Noah that Brittney has found him without him even having to look…

"What?"Noah reels backwards in his confusion his body shifting away from hers as he requests her to repeat what he swears he couldn't have heard right although he is certain that he did…

"I heard a rumor that you and Rachel got kidnapped by gremlins…" Brittney shrugs as if this much is obvious, "I was worried."

"Where did you hear that?" Noah asks a smirk appearing against his face for the first time since well before he had watched Rachel getting sick earlier that morning in a manner that he knows only this group of people could possibly bring.

"I started it."

"Oh…" Noah nods cautiously, playing along with her motions… The blonde always has the best of intentions inside of her heart, Noah knows this much. "Well we made it out safe."

"Good because Lord Tubbington got kidnapped by gremlins once and he still has nightmares sometimes…" She gives him a fair warning that he just offers an appreciative nod towards before backing away, making room for the rest to move through the motions.

Noah doesn't have long to linger… His friends are filtering through much too quickly, welcoming him back with wide open arms… all of them. Kurt Hummel, who his violent history towards has left them never truly seeing eye-to-eye with one another, even Tina, who he is certain he has never spoken so much as two words to wraps him inside of a hug so strong that he is lifted off of his very feet.

"How's Rachel?" His eyes glance upwards from the squatting position that he had previously assumed in an effort to reach Artie's eye level as he greeted him, locking towards the only two people that hadn't bothered standing up to see him.

He isn't entirely surprised that Santana is glancing towards the floor, trying desperately to look as if she hasn't noticed Noah's entrance into the room at all… They haven't spoken since that day inside of the emergency room on Saturday, and to be completely honest, he was almost glad about it.

He is more than aware of the idea that him and Santana will have to face the facts soon enough, but right now is simply not the time or the place.

No, the more shocking of the two sights before him comes with the idea that Quinn Fabray, situated directly besides her is the first person out of the entirety of the glee club to ask about Rachel; a look of genuine concern splayed across her face as she waits for an answer that suddenly, despite hours of strategic planning, he can't seem to find in the back of his throat.

The room silences almost instantly; drowned by nothing more than a dull murmur of agreement by his teammates as they project their agreement with Quinn's inquiry…

They begin to crowd around him… In all honesty, they are no closer than they had been before, but suddenly, he feels as if they are swarming all around him until he can no longer even breathe… He has never been claustrophobic before but today, he can understand how it is that a person can panic trapped amidst an enclosed space.

Through the limited amount of space that he actually does have, his eyes meet those of his best friend's, lingering around the corner. Curiosity doesn't filter across his eyes as it does so with everybody else's all around him… Finn and Will Schuester are the only two souls other than himself inside of this room that knows the truth.

He offers no more than a short nod of support that Noah can only reciprocate.

"Okay, guys…" Mr. Schuester guides his students away cautiously, seeing Noah's obvious distress, "How about we give Puck some breathing room."

"No, it's fine Mr. Schue…" Noah assures him, stopping his friends in the midst of their retreat as they all pause to turn and eye him; worry building inside of the very pits of their stomachs towards the look that had just appeared on their normally stony teammate's face. "I think… I think that I'm long overdue owing you all an explanation anyway."

They retreat slowly back into their seats, their eyes never leaving the brooding football player's form as he stands against the center of the choir room, arms folded in front of him and toes scuffing against the linoleum floor as if that would make him think of something to say any faster…

He'd swear to it, he never thought that standing here would feel like this… He feels suddenly exposed, terrified, beaten… entirely bruised.

"Well, uh… on Saturday, in the… in the ER, they ran a few… a few tests, I guess…" The normally poised and confident football player stutters on the easiest of words, and for the life of him, he can't comprehend why it is that this was so hard… These were his friends standing before him, his friends that were all just as concerned about his sister as he was… He knows that they are going to be nothing but supportive, but still, for some reason, it still feels like the hardest thing that he has ever had to face in his entire life. "To um… to figure out why she collapsed."

"Just spit it out already, will you Corcoran!" Quinn has yelled at him before, time and time again for the matter… Usually, it was over something stupid, something that made his blood boil with rage until he had to resist the urge to smack her upside the head with the reminder that he could never do that to a chick, but today, her words hit him deeply; they reverberate deep down inside of his very stomach and they bring him enough confidence to understand that she is entirely right…

"Rachel has cancer," The words come out easier than his previous stress would have ever indicated… Rachel had been right, Quinn had been right, they had all been right… he should have known; one day he would stop doubting absolutely everybody around him, "Leukemia… She started chemotherapy on Tuesday."

A collective gasp reverberates about the small room; a handful of the singers before them unable to contain the shock inside of their throats, as all around him, eyes widen and hands are brought upwards to cover horrified, open mouths…

But instinctive reaction is contained almost as quickly as it has been released and they fall into silence once more… They wait for an explanation; wait for answers that Noah is certain he doesn't have… and probably never will.

"She um… she's had it before," He carries along, unsure whether or not his insistence upon adding a brief history lesson will make the news easier or harder to grasp onto. "She was diagnosed for the first time when she was four, and then, in the emergency room they biopsied her bone marrow…" He sighs; his eyes direct towards the floor, his shoulders hunching in a motion of defeat as his voice cracks slightly, "And there it was."

"Is she okay?" His eyes dart upwards… Quinn Fabray, it seems, just didn't want to stop surprising him with her questions, her sentiments of actually caring in regards to his sister.

And he can tell that its genuine, really he can, because while he's never seen anything other than stone in her light brown eyes before, suddenly, everything was there, out in the open and for the first time in the entirety of his life, Noah sees Quinn Fabray as something other than a nemesis; he sees her as a person, a companion, maybe even a friend.

He takes it as a sentiment of the true regard towards the feelings that his sister has the power of projecting onto people once they manage to look past her fiery determination and often obnoxious stubborn streak and see the true beauty that is buried deep inside of her.

If only Rachel could see this now… Noah is certain that she wouldn't believe him if he told her; hell, he is right there staring at it and he isn't entirely certain that he believes it.

"Of course she's not okay, Barbie," Santana snaps, marking the first words that she has spoken since Noah has walked inside of the choir room… She is getting snippy; it is a nervous habit that years of experience allows Noah to understand just how scared she truly is, "She has freaking cancer for Christ's sake…"

"Okay, Santana…" Will steps forwards, his arms raised in a silent motion to ease Santana's nerves before things got ugly, as they all know they possessed the capacity to do. "Listen, I know that this news is coming as a shock… We all need to adjust for both Rachel and Noah… for each other too."

"She's doing okay," Noah waves his teacher off, raising his voice over the nervous commotion that has suddenly erupted across the room; quiet chatter, whisperings discussing both Noah and Rachel as if he was not standing right there… They silence the second that his mouth is open. "She's doing as well as she possibly can."

"Well what does that mean?" Quinn is persistent; she's pushing for details that Noah doesn't exactly have, leaving his brain hazy in a muddled sorrow, confusion…

"What…"

"How is she holding up?" Santana emphasizes; her voice remarkably more gentle than it had been the last time that she had projected it upon them, "How is she handling things?"

"I don't know…" Noah shrugs; he isn't entirely certain how to go about answering this question, "I mean… She just started treatment so it hasn't… it hasn't really hit her yet…" The fresh image still emblazoned inside of his mind of his sister succumbing to the impossible illness just this morning is suddenly that much more prominent deep inside of his mind expresses his lie for what it really is. "She got pretty sick this morning, but that's about it."

"Can we go see her?" Noah eyes Quinn in silence for a handful of brief seconds… This was starting to get strange… really strange.

"Yeah…" He finally forces himself out of his haze, nodding his head confidently in an effort to emphasize his answer to her question, "Yeah, you can go see her… She'll be at Lima Memorial for a little while… probably the next couple of weeks at least."

There's gratitude inside of her eyes in regards to his lack of questioning her intentions as Quinn nods towards him in her appreciation of his honesty despite the idea that she knows as well as he does that she has never done anything to actually deserve it.

Her eyes turn away quickly, she is out of things to say, which is good, because he is out of a proper means by which to respond.

"Alright guys," Will steps in front of Noah; the extended silence must have told the teacher that his pupil no longer wanted to be up here anymore, he didn't want to be stuck inside of the spotlight, he didn't want to be embellishing on everything that was going wrong in his life when the glee club was finally making it seem as if everything was going to be alright for a change. "So I know that I've already given you you're assignment for the week but I think that maybe we can switch it up a little bit… I think that it might be nice for you guys to come up with something for both Noah and Rachel… As a sort of reminder that we will be there for them…"

Noah wipes at his eyes before the tears have an opportunity to emerge as they swell dangerously behind the sensory organ in response to the notion that he would have an entire team of friends standing behind him, willing to help, willing to help him to pull through this…

He knows how things like this usually work… He knows how hard the tide will be trying to pull him under in these upcoming weeks, months, years even… But now that he's discovering more and more reasons to actually keep swimming for his very life, he is starting to get the notion that maybe, just maybe everything is going to be alright for the first time in a very, very long time…

"No matter what."

* * *

><p>"Corcoran, my office now," The good feeling previously left behind by his supportive glee club is short lived… He's barely out of his first period gym class before he is being yelled at once more, this time by his coach; Ken Tanaka, who is insisting his presence inside of his office in a very loud, very aggressive manner.<p>

Noah pulls his dirty gym shirt up from around his head, eyeing Finn besides him nervously before pulling a fresh t-shirt back over his exposed torso to cover himself… He is certain that he knows exactly what this is all about, and by the look inside of his best friend's face, he knows too…

The dreaded answer towards the question of whether or not Noah will be participating in tonight's football State semi-finals after ditching both practice and school all week long.

He had already known that Ken Tanaka would be gunning for his head all day… The aggression behind his coach's voice only serves as a reminder that he had thought right.

"Have a seat, Corcoran…" The coach closes his office door behind him before he directs the boy over towards the ominous chair placed strategically at the head of the coach's desk.

Overhead, the bell rings, long and shrill, indicating the end of the class period… Gulping nervously, Noah stands his ground, and he takes a whack at the first excuse to get the hell out of there that he can come up with.

"Can this wait, Coach?" He asks the short, yet intimidating man before him, "I have geometry right now."

"Since when have you ever cared about geometry, Corcoran?" His voice is harsh and gruff as he indicates for Noah to sit once more, ignoring the boy's excuses as he takes his own seat behind his desk, directly across from Noah…

He eyes the boy briefly; his expression diminishing dramatically as it shifts from a joking undertone to one of complete seriousness.

"I'll write you a pass, Noah…" He assures him, "This is important."

Noah senses defeat; he sinks downwards and into his chair, his foot tapping against the linoleum floor below him immediately in his characteristic nervous habit, indicative of Coach Tanaka's taking his sweet ass time explaining to him why he was here to begin with…

The older man removes his hat slowly, wiping at his damp brow with the back of his forearm before resting his elbows against the desk as his eyes avert from Noah's… He is clearly perplexed, deep in thought towards what it is that he is going to say next.

"Is this about missing practice all week, Coach?" Noah attempts to get the ball rolling on his own accord… He's not entirely certain how much more sitting around and waiting that he can take these days. "Because I wasn't cutting, Coach Tanaka, I swear… My mother has been calling me out of school all week for some… for some family issues. I can get her to write me a pass explaining or… or to call you if that's what you want…"

"This isn't about practice, Noah…" Ken puts up a single hand that silences the boy's frantic explanations immediately.

Noah eyes his coach carefully; a look of utter confusion appears across his face as he falls silent and waits on an answer.

"Noah, I just wanted to let you know that I got a phone call yesterday from a man by the name of Jason Granderson…" Ken's eyes tilt upwards in an effort to meet the clearly confused ones of the younger boy before him, "Do you know who Jason Granderson is, son?"

Noah scours his mind briefly, wracking his brain for a face to place behind this vaguely familiar name…. It doesn't take him very long to do so, and the second he does, his eyes begin to widen, his heart pounding frantically inside of his chest…

"Notre Dame…" Is the only thing that he can seem to manage, his voice teeming in nothing above a whisper.

"Notre Dame," Ken confirms with an emphasizing nod, "Noah, Jason Granderson is the leading football scout in this country… He called me yesterday to talk to me about my star running back, and how the Fighting Irish have been keeping a very strong eye on him."

Noah's eyes widen as his fingers begin to fidget nervously against the material of his jeans, bunching the denim into his palms… He wants to get excited, but he is too convinced that his coach's words are much too good to actually be true…

There is no way in hell everything that he has ever worked for is boiling down to this exact, single moment.

"Of course I didn't have much to tell him seeing as how I haven't seen said star running back all week." His voice slants accusingly; Noah knows that there is nothing more that he can possibly do other than to look downwards towards his slowly tapping feet and build his most sincere of apologies deep down into the very pit of his throat.

"I'm sorry coach…"

"Mr. Granderson will be at William McKinley High School tonight looking to watch you during tonight's game…" Coach Tanaka nods softly, "Of course, seeing as you haven't made a single practice this week, your name was conveniently missing from my line up today…"

"What, no! Please Coach Tanaka, I'll do anything!" He's more animated than he's been all week. Noah flies upwards from his chair, standing on his own two feet as he hovers over Coach Tanaka so that the man can see the terror inside of his eyes towards the mere idea alone. "I already blew my chance with Rutgers, this might be my last real shot at going to college… Please Coach, I need this."

Ken Tanaka maintains an extended silence, expressing a firm discipline as the teenager hovers over him… He remains poised, offering Noah nothing more than a brief raise of his hands in an indicative measure to get the boy before him to maintain his seat…

Noah follows his coach's instructions with a sigh, but his motions are coated with defeat; he is not pleased about it.

"As I was saying… This morning, your name was conveniently missing from my lineup…" He repeats himself, although his tone is indicative of the idea that that all inclusive _but_ is coming up somewhere, "Then after I hung up the phone, I was approached by none other than Sue Sylvester herself… eavesdropping, as we both know she has a tendency of doing."

Ken smirks towards Noah, but the boy doesn't respond… he doesn't know how to. Instead, he simply allows his head to bob uniformly up and down and up and down.

"Son, Coach Sylvester explained to me about the extenuating circumstances regarding your absence this week…" Noah's heart flutters inside of his chest; he can almost swear that he felt it skip a very beat… He should have known that all of this would come back to Rachel eventually… It always comes back to Rachel. "Your sister… I'm very sorry."

"Don't be." Noah shakes his head… His answer is practiced, repetitive… He's said it so many times before in his life that it just comes naturally at this point.

"Your name is in that lineup for tonight and you will start in this game…" Noah's head rises upwards wordlessly, finally bringing himself to look towards his coach once more… A grin forms across his face, stretching from ear to ear. He had just been handed the opportunity of his life, he wasn't about to throw that away any time soon. "Son, you better play the game of your life tonight, do you hear me? I want you to play the absolute best that you have ever played… I want you to be the absolute best that you have ever been, if not for yourself, then for that sister of yours…"

Noah nods frantically; he finds himself already licking at his lips in his anticipation for the night's prospects… He can't seem to get the smile off of his face, can't seem to still the incessant motions of his head.

"What do you know, Coach?" Noah asks, his curiosity suddenly getting the better of him, "About this Jason Granderson guy?"

"I know that he has a list of the top one hundred high school football players in the country," Coach Tanaka informs him pointedly, "And I know that that list has your name on it."

"People say that this one guy has the ability to make you or break you with one game…" Noah expresses his fears aloud… He isn't certain just how more breaking that he can handle at this point, but it is a risk that he isn't sure he's so willing to take, "I've heard some people go as far as to compare him to Jesus himself…"

"Well he's no Jesus…" Ken laughs, but the motion never actually reaches his eyes, "Noah, let me tell you something; you are a prospect, okay? You are a prospect and there's going to be a lot of Jason Granderson's coming around here to take a look at you if we win this game tonight, and I can tell you this much… Jason Granderson is not going to be the one to make or break you –"

"You are."

* * *

><p>"So?"<p>

Finn is leaning against the wall looking directly outside of Coach Tanaka's office as Noah reopens the door and steps back out into the otherwise empty locker room.

Noah is certain that he'd had his ear pressed up against the door this entire time… He is surprised that Finn hadn't heard their conversation verbatim through the very wood.

"So what?" Noah feels the ghost of his old self filtering back inside of his veins as he flashes Finn that smile that he is so famous for, that smile that can make the entirety of the female population, and even some of the dudes of William McKinley High School positively melt.

"Don't play with me, Corcoran!" Finn jokes with his friends, offering the teen a playful shove back inside of the locker room as Noah retreats to grab his previously abandoned belongings, "Was that about the game tonight? Are you playing?"

Noah allows his friend to writhe briefly as he retains his silence during the duration of his digging through his gym locker… The only thing that he does offer Finn is his soft smile alongside a brief nod as to confirm the idea that him and Finn will be stepping onto that field together for what very well may be the last time, should things not go their way during this single elimination playoff game tonight…

Of course, Noah always knows that they will.

"Nice man…" Finn extends his hand outwards towards his friend, who grabs it casually in his reciprocation, pulling the slightly taller boy briefly into his chest for a quick, one-armed hug. "This is gonna be you and me all damn night, dude…"

"Yeah well, I really needed this man… that much is for damn sure." Noah's aggression begins to filter inside of his head the second the realization that he will actually be playing tonight strikes him like a bullet, flowering throughout his chest, "I swear to God, Finn, I'm going out on that field tonight looking to kill…"

"Tell me about it…" Finn murmurs, Noah eyeing him only briefly before he shakes his friend off… He knows that Finn must know that he is referring to Rachel, but Noah can't help but to wonder where Noah's aggression is teeming from…

"I've got a scout coming tonight…" He turns the subject on its head the second that he remembers the vital turning point regarding his earlier conversation with Ken Tanaka that he had previously walked into expecting only the worst.

"No shit," Finn turns to gape towards Noah, "Who?"

"Notre Dame…"

"That's awesome man, congratulations…" Finn is genuine in his expression, supporting the boy in a manner that only a best friend really could sometimes… "I'll get you that ball all night, Puck, man… This is your time, you deserve it…"

"Thanks, dude…" Noah nods his appreciation through a deep breath, grabbing at his backpack to sling it across his shoulder as he makes the motion to leave… Finn is right; this was _his_ time.

"Hey… you know, um… Santana came to talk to me this morning during our lifting session…" Noah's neck turns so abruptly to face Finn that it cracks… Noah regains his composure quickly, eyeing Finn with an air of distinct caution…

He is not entirely certain how Finn is expecting him to react to this little bit of information, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that neither is he.

"Yeah?" He tries to shrug it off as casually as humanly possible although he is not entirely certain that this is the exact impression that he has radiated… "What, did she want to tell you that she's having your kid now too?"

"I think that she's just worried about you is all, man…" Finn shrugs through what little he apparently did get out of the conversation that he had had with his ex earlier that morning… "Rachel too, believe it or not."

"Santana doesn't worry about anybody," Noah shakes his head slowly… he wants out of this conversation and it hasn't even truly started yet, "Not even herself."

"She does these days." Finn reciprocates, "Coach Sylvester has been screaming that the glee club has made all of those Cheerio's soft for months now…" Finn's eyes shoot nervously down towards his hands; Noah knows the direction that he is headed towards before he's so much as opened his mouth. "Have you… have you talked to her since… you know… the hospital?"

"No," Noah speaks sharply as if to tell Finn that this is not a conversation that he is willing to have right now as he turns his back aggressively upon him, moving as quickly as his feet can possibly take him towards the exit, "I haven't heard from her at all since she told me that she was dating Brittney…"

"What was that Corcoran?" Noah freezes alongside the absolute last voice that he wants to hear at the moment… especially walking into this conversation… He keeps his back turned, eyes closed as if in an attempt to convince himself that as long as he doesn't look at him, David Karofsky will simply disappear…

He should have known that this could never work.

"You turned Santana Lopez into a dyke?"

"Don't fucking start with me Karofsky!" The swell of a week's worth of pent up aggression filters inside of his chest, flying out his mouth as he flips around to face the lumbering linebacker, pressing forwards until the two football players were standing chest-to-chest.

"I should have known that you wouldn't have the sack to satisfy your lady," Karofsky's mouth turns upwards into a cruel smirk as he looks downwards upon Noah's slightly shorter frame, "But still, turning a slut like Santana Lopez gay… Hell, even I'm impressed."

"Why do you keep on insisting on starting shit, Karofsky," Finn senses the danger… Historically, he knows that more often than not, confrontations between Noah and David Karofsky turn violent, and they turn violent quickly… The oversized boy steps between the two with the idea in mind that anything that may hinder Noah's chances at playing this game tonight needs to be put to rest, and quickly. "Every time you do it, it just ends up with you getting your ass beat into the ground."

"You're not good enough to be talking shit, Hudson…" Karofsky shakes his head, shoving Finn violently aside before turning immediately back towards Noah, "Besides, I think that old Puck here will be much too concerned with what does and does not get across to the school's rumor mill this morning to start much of anything."

David Karofsky toys with Puck in a manner that experience tells him will truly get beneath the boy's already shot nerves, reaching upwards to mock the boy, pinching condescendingly at his cheeks in a taunting manner that has Noah slapping his hand forcefully from his face as he reels away, eyes narrowing upwards and towards the boy.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Noah growls.

"I'll tell you what it means… You know what I heard today, Corcoran?" Noah wants David to keep running his notoriously loose mouth almost as much as he just wants him to shut the fuck up already… He isn't entirely certain that he wants to know what David Karofsky _heard_ this morning… He has barely enough to hang onto as it is; he isn't certain how much more he can take while continuing to remain upright. "I heard that you knocked up Santana Lopez…"

Noah freezes; he can't move, he can't think, he can't breathe for Christ's sake… And the manner by which he watches the boy before him as his lips curl upwards, allows him to understand that David Karofsky has delivered the blow right on target.

"I guess it makes sense; you do look enough like a chick to get around with a dyke like her…" He capitalizes on Noah's silence; he knows as well Noah does that the longer he can talk, the deeper he can drag the boy under the water…

"You know what else I heard? I heard that she told you that she was lying all along… I guess that it was just to cover up the fact that you weren't t he only chick that she was fucking." He laughs; a deep, angry drawl that chills Noah deep into his very bones. "And I heard that she did all of this while you were in the ER at Lima Memorial waiting for your washed up sister, because she choked so hard at your big Fag Club competition, that she passed out."

The transition between his submission and a rage by which frightens even him is so abrupt that Karofsky doesn't have so much as time to blink before Noah's hands are wrapped the collar of David Karofsky's shirt, swinging the boy twice his size around so that he can slam him into the lockers behind him.

"What the fuck do you know about my sister?" The world comes crashing down all around him until he's tunneled so far in that he doesn't even notice Finn trying to pull him away from Karofsky, or Azimo Addams trying to pull Karofsky out from beneath him…

But for all it was worth, their efforts hardly make Noah so much as budge.

"Get off of me, man, what the fuck?" Karofsky attempts to swat Noah's hands away from their dangerously close proximity to his neck, but the only thing that Noah does is press him even harder against the steel lockers behind him.

"What the fuck do you know about my sister?"

"Nothing…" Karofsky's face is turning a remarkable shade of red as his eyes widen behind the fear of just what a rage induced Noah Corcoran is capable of. "Just that she passed out singing and tap dancing to fucking Aida on Saturday, that's all…"

"Where did you hear that?" Noah is seemingly un-amused by Karofsky's poorly placed joke, releasing him slightly only so that he can slam him back against the lockers once more, this time with an even stronger force than before, "Who the fuck told you Karofsky!"

"That Jacob Ben-Israel kid," David Karofsky gasps out only after his face transitions from a strong red to a steady purple, "It's all around the school man…"

Noah feels his fingers loosen; his grip faltering under the sheer understanding that his deepest of secrets, that his sister's, that Santana's were beginning to seep through the very cracks and crevices of his notoriously ruthless high school, cut with the exaggerations and lies of the student body…

Karofsky capitalizes on the opportunity; he offers Noah a forceful shove to the boy's torso that he barely even notices as he staggers backwards, allowing Karofsky for an opportunity to come out choking underneath him…

It's only a matter of seconds before the backs of Noah's knees hit an obstructing bench behind him, sending him toppling over with a sharp pain in his tailbone that radiates dully up the length of his spine…

He ignores it; not even that can outweigh the pain that he feels alongside the final understanding that even if he does find the strength to ever stand up again, that doesn't mean that the entire world won't come crashing down all around him once more.

* * *

><p><strong>Baygirl123<strong>** – Glad you enjoyed! Hope you liked Noah telling the club, they're gonna start playing a pretty big role, particularly Quinn and Santana. **

**Readerforlife**** – Haha, I'm sorry to keep you so confused, hopefully all of your questions will be answered soon. Thanks for the review!**

**Ballerina03**** – I'm glad you liked it, I was a bit worried it didn't turn out so well so I appreciate it loads. The next few chapters are going to be from Noah in future (maybe a past one thrown in the middle of it) I've got a few plans for Noah I want to lay out so I hope you enjoy. Thanks for the review! **


	27. Noah Corcoran November 2011 Part Ii

**Hello all, I'm back and the good news is that I have learned that writing with one hand does not suck as much as I originally thought that it would so this chapter got finished up a lot faster than I originally thought it would.  
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**I've got a few more Noah chapters coming up before we switch on over to Rachel's POV. I've got some plans for Noah's character that I wanna lay out, plus there's something about writing tough yet sensitive Noah that I just love so I can't resist... As of now I'm thinking that the next chapter might be little Noah but I'm not positive yet.  
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**As always, thank you is not enough to describe my appreciation for all of you readers out there! Also, if you want to see anything specific happen in this story, don't be afraid to let me know, I'm always looking for something new to throw in here, plus all I ever really wanna do is give you guys anything that you really want haha.  
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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – November 2011  
><em>(Part II)<em>

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><p>His senses are so overwhelmingly heightened that the adrenaline currently coursing through his veins is beginning to frighten even him.<p>

An adrenaline junky that generally thrives on the extra course of epinephrine, not even Noah is looking for this rush any longer… He hasn't begged for the control over a sudden and involuntary bodily reaction such as this one since he had been a freshman in high school reeling on a bad trip following a party that had gotten even beyond the control of his typically wild ways.

He had spent the entirety of the night paranoid to the extent that he had ended his evening by jumping into his friend's shower with all of his clothes still on, phone still inside of his pocket and everything else in between… All he had wanted to do at the time was to simply wash away the high, and this afternoon, he couldn't help but to feel remarkably similar…

Save for the drugs and alcohol part, of course.

He watches as the eyes of his fellow classmates widen with fear as he barrels towards them with a look that can kill… They leap from his destructive path as if he were on fire, but Noah isn't looking for any of them; he is looking for one person and one person only…

Jacob Ben-Israel.

He doesn't have a particular course of action for once he does find the young red head; hell, he isn't entirely certain whether he wants to demand the answers as to how he'd heard such vital information about him, Santana and Rachel and _then_ beat the shit out of him or if he wants to beat the shit of him, demand answers, and then beat the shit out of him a little bit more…

"Noah…" The voice is soft; tentative… The reluctant, high pitched inquiry stops the savage teen in the midst of his warpath, halting him abruptly where he turns in an aggressive about face only to find the miniscule, red headed guidance counselor that he knows oh so well, hunching nervously before him.

"Ms. Pillsbury…" His voice emits as an involuntary growl that he regrets in an instant the second that he sees the tiny woman before him flinch slightly.

He considers offering her an apology, but of course, the words never come out…

"I've been looking for you all day," Ms. Pillsbury risks a tentative step forward, "I was wondering if maybe I can speak with you in my office."

"Yeah," Noah nods through a sigh… Talking with the school shrink is the absolute last thing that he wants to do right now, of course, seeing no other way around it, he complies easily, "Yeah, okay."

Noah follows her across the hall and into her office, shoulders hunched and hands embedded deep inside of her pockets… He is much too familiar with the cramped room; an office that has guided him through an expulsion, a multitude of suspensions, the pressures of being the leading football star as well as being too stupid to so much as pass high school.

The interior looks exactly the same, it always does… Positively pristine, a rack of college brochures on one side of the room and a hundred or so ridiculous pamphlets that Noah is certain has never actually helped a single person overcome a single issue…

He briefly wonders how many of those pamphlets that Emma has actually handed off to an unsuspecting student, just looking for a little bit of help only to receive something much, much less… a lot, probably, although he is certain that there's nobody actually out there that suffers from some of the truly obscure conditions that these tiny slips of paper highlight.

She is plucking one expertly from the shelf without having to first search for it just as he is wondering this very notion.

Noah's neck cranes upwards, stretching to its very threshold in an effort to read the bolded letters written across the front, but they're hidden behind the palm of her hand just as Ms. Pillsbury is making the motion for him to sit…

He hasn't spent this much time in administrator's offices without being yelled at, well… ever. The thought alone is almost enough to make him laugh… _almost_.

"I'm sure that you're wondering why I've asked you to come see me today, Noah…" The counselor begins with a textbook introduction as she settles herself behind her desk, positioning in her body strategically in much the same manner as Ken Tanaka had just committed to mere moments ago.

Noah panics briefly; he knows that look, he's an expert on _that_ look by this point… He's not in the mood to be having this conversation, not now, not again, not ever…

"Actually, I was just…"

"I talked to Mr. Schuester this morning, Noah…" Ms. Pillsbury cuts him off abruptly; he can't help but to wonder whether or not she had even heard him to begin with, "He told me about your sister… I'm very sorry."

Noah's eyes close gently upon hearing Emma's words despite the previous acknowledgment that they were coming… His head turns away from the sight before him as he lifts a closed fist to his mouth in an effort to disguise an involuntary choke of disappointment as a regular cough…

He was tired of everybody around here talking to him about Rachel; he was tired of being the brunt of their sympathies, their apologies, their well wishes… Jesus, there were probably less than twenty people in the entirety of this school who actually knew the truth about Rachel and he was already sick of it.

"Isn't that against some sort of, I don't know… confidentiality law or something?" Noah tries to joke, but he struggles to adjust his tone as to prevent his comment from coming across as anything less than rude.

"He's concerned about you, Noah." As he'd expected, she does not take his comment lightly, "Mr. Schuester… he cares about his students in the glee club an awful lot… He's asked me to check up with you, to make sure that you were handling things alright."

"Yeah well, we're okay…" Noah retreats with an instinctive defensiveness despite being told just that morning by his sister not to make the motion a habit. "We're dealing with it, we're doing okay… we're doing what we have to do…"

"I asked about you, Noah…" She analyzes his response; Noah watches hypnotically as her fingers lace together between one other, fitting perfectly.

"I'm fine." His response is sharp, orchestrated, fake…

"Okay, that's good…" Ms. Pillsbury nods, but Noah can tell by the tone behind her voice that she is not entirely convinced… She has picked up upon his monotonous tone, the robotic nature of his response… Of course a brick wall could have picked up on that much. "But Noah, there are still a few concerns that a few of your teachers have brought up to me… mainly regarding your grades."

"What do my grades have to do with Rachel?" Suddenly, Noah is no longer following… The two barely seem connected in his mind. Besides, his grades have always been one to struggle, football having been the only thing that has ever managed to sweep him through the motions of their faulty public school system.

Leave it up to them to care about him now, only after realizing that he was their own, personal charity case… Anything for a little bit of publicity, he can't help but to guess.

"There's concern that you are already struggling academically, Noah…" Ms. Pillsbury explains casually, a point that Noah is already much too aware of. "On top of that, I know that you are already under enormous pressure with football in the midst of the playoffs, and with the glee club… Plus Noah, I know that it cannot be particularly easy with you being the man of your house…"

Her words click something sudden and overwhelmingly aggressive deep down inside of his very core… He knows that Ms. Pillsbury has only the best of intentions, but in his mind, he can't help but to register her words as a distinct threat, a poke at the parallels between his father's involvement; the choices that he had committed to the last time that Rachel had fallen ill as compared to his stark absence now that it was happening all over again.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Noah's eyes narrow dangerously, his muscles tensing in response to the perceived threat as his defensive guard rises at the speed of light all around him.

"Please, Noah, I'm not trying to offend you…" She raises her hands, performing the international symbol indicative of a peaceful truce… He isn't buying it; he can only assume that now that his heart has grown so old, so inexplicably cold he isn't buying much of anything anymore, "I'm just saying that I know that you lost your father a couple of years ago and…"

"My father has nothing to do with anything; not Rachel, not my grades, not anything," Noah makes it obvious that this is not a subject that he is willing to divulge upon, "He threw in the white flag, he gave up on me, he gave up on my mom and he gave up on my sister… I'm not my dad, Ms. Pillsbury; I'm not going to do that."

"I want you to start coming to see me once or twice a week, Noah…" She stops beating around the bush and makes her initial intentions obvious… Noah can only assume that her fears were that he would turn coward and blow his own brains straight out of his skull just like his father had…

There was no way in hell that he was going to do that… he was _not_ his father.

"I don't need a babysitter." He shrugs her off, falling backwards into his chair, arms crossed across his chest in an effort to emphasize his distinct displeasure towards the idea… He doesn't want some college educated fool that he barely knows to delve into his innermost feelings, to try and force him to reveal his deepest secrets.

Hell, he doesn't want to reveal his deepest of secrets to much of anybody.

"This isn't about having a babysitter, Noah." Ms. Pillsbury insists, although Noah is not entirely convinced, "It's about the fact that college football, which I hear is a very real possibility for you, is about something much more than talent… You have to graduate high school in order to go to college, Noah."

"Thanks for the memo…" Sarcasm drips from his mouth before he so much as has the opportunity to pause and remind himself that this is probably not the smartest thing for him to say right now… "Okay, I'm sorry…" He apologizes quickly, "I'll come to your office, okay?"

"How about we start on Monday?" She suggests, without so much as mentioning his abruptness, "Lunch time in my office."

"Every Monday?" Noah cringes alongside the acknowledgment that he is more than aware of exactly what it is that she is going to say before she even says it…

"Every Monday until I say otherwise…" Ms. Pillsbury nods firmly in her confirmation. "And Noah, I'm going to let your mother know about our meetings too, alright?"

"What, you don't trust me?" Noah offers her his famous Noah Corcoran charm; a sly grin accompanied by a suggesting posture, but the school psychologist's body retreats physically away from his own, falling backwards inside of her chair as to suggest that she is not buying it.

"I trust that you will do the right thing, Noah," Ms. Pillsbury emphasizes the utmost faith that she has in Noah… For the life of him, the teen can never comprehend why people always trusted him so damn much… he didn't even trust himself, "But I know that sometimes, people just need a little shove in the right direction is all."

"I won't try and skip out, Ms. Pillsbury," Noah waves off her concern towards his natural tendency towards avoidance as he stands to his feet, slinging his backpack over his shoulders in his own, personal attempt to end this conversation at the first opportunity that he sees.

"Noah, before you go I want you to take this and read it over, okay?" She leans forwards across his desk, her arm extending towards him, the pamphlet that he had watched her grab earlier in their conversation.

_Coping with Cancer_… He is certain that this is the only pamphlet in the entirety of her cramped office that did not come equipped with some sort of clever, witty title that skirted over addressing the seriousness of a deeper problem within…

It isn't making him feel any better… In fact, Noah can't help but to only feel worse. And he hasn't even opened the damn thing yet.

"I want you to really read it, okay Noah?" She must have noticed his eyeing the thin tablet within his hands with a distinct trepidation, because she feels the sudden and distinct need to emphasize his cooperation.

"Is there gonna be a quiz?" He speaks smartly in an effort to hide his rapidly swelling discomfort.

"No quiz," She shakes her head; she is not playing into his strategic games, "This is all for your own personal benefit, Noah."

"Yeah…" The laugh that he cannot bring himself to control is rude; involuntary, but rude, he knows this, but still, Noah does not make a single motion to correct himself. "I'll see you on Monday, Ms. Pillsbury."

The boy rounds into the hallway with the speed of a hunting cheetah… He doesn't even give himself enough time to catch Ms. Pillsbury's response towards his self dismissal – had she had the time to even make one – before the door begins to close slowly, separating himself from the school counselor just on the other side.

He doesn't even bother to wait until he is out of eyeshot before tipping the pamphlet straight into the awaiting garbage can… A stupid piece of paper offering him some carefully worded life advice wasn't going to help him now… Hell, he was starting to grow convinced of the idea that nothing was ever going to be able to help him at this point.

After all, Noah Corcoran knows better than anybody else in this place that it is not that easy to move away from a past when you can never seem to forget it…

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><p>"<em>I'm gonna play first base for the New York Yankees one day, just watch me." Six year old Noah Corcoran professes his broad ambition from the backseat of Carole Hudson's station wagon; a dream that the imaginative young child has recently concocted following his first baseball practice ever… <em>

_With the Lima Little League._

"_You've gotta play first base for the middle school before you can do that." Finn turns from his position inside of the booster seat besides his friend, the seatbelt straining against his thin chest as he sticks out his tongue prominently towards Noah in a strictly joking manner._

_ "No I don't," Noah shoots back abruptly… A beacon of self confidence, his mother always told him, even though he wasn't entirely sure what that meant just yet, "I'm gonna be the youngest person ever to get into the major leagues, you'll see… And you will not be getting an autographed baseball card from me, Finn Hudson." _

_ The six year old crosses his arms proudly across his chest, his head offering a single, exaggerated nod as if to emphasize the finality of this statement; that his soon to be prized autograph was to be strictly withheld from his best friend…_

"_Noah honey, are you sure that anybody is home at your house right now?" Carole interrupts the young boys' playful banter as her car slows directly in front of his home, "I don't see your mother's car in the driveway…"_

_ Noah's head swivels towards the window to confirm… Carole is right, his mother's car is not parked in its usual spot… Heck, he doesn't even see his aunt's car lying around anywhere._

_ Eyeing his surroundings with a bit more care, however, he quickly picks up on the most unusual feature yet… Despite the seeming lack of presence amidst the house, the garage door is sitting untouched and wide open… Carole's car inches slightly closer; the second that it does, Noah catches a fleeting glimpse of the small side house's interior, more notably, the familiar Lexus that is sitting inside of it…_

_ "That's my dad's car! My daddy's home!" Noah expresses his excitement immediately; he is just glad to see his father back home again… Although Noah is not entirely certain what is currently smoldering between his mother and his father, he does know that he had watched his mom yelling at his dad weeks ago, and before he'd known it, the man had disappeared in his entirety…_

_ Noah missed him; he missed him a lot, although he would never admit this to his mother, who still got upset every time she so much as saw a picture of his daddy…_

_ "Are you sure, Noah?" Carole eyes the young boy carefully… Noah knows that Carole knows that Hiram has not been living inside of their house for a very long time… He had heard her and his mother talking about it when Shelby had believed Noah to be asleep in bed… _

_Noah had never discussed this with his mother, and probably never would… He doesn't want her to know that he was spying._

"_Yeah, that's his car over there in the driveway." Noah points distinctly as if to confirm, but he refuses to elaborate for fear that Carole will pick up on the idea that he knows something that he is not supposed to._

_ "Okay…" The woman sounds wary, the scene much too suspicious to ease her fears, "I'm gonna wait out here until you get inside, okay buddy?"_

_ Noah simply shrugs; this method is not particularly unusual amongst mothers, he knows this… Mom's always waited for kids to get inside upon dropping them off before they drive away… it was like, a law or something. _

_ The boy offers his final goodbyes, grabbing at his tiny backpack as he maneuvers himself expertly out of his booster seat, securing his baseball mitt firmly against his hand as to ensure its safe keeping before he slides out of the car's back seat. _

_ He is still wearing his baseball cleats; the first thing that he can think of upon his feet making contact with the rough pavement below is that it feels funny to be walking on cement with cleats… That must be why his mother always yells at him for walking across her hard wood floors in them…_

_ Noah can feel every loose rock, every bump, every crack in the driveway as he ascends straight past the walkway that he usually travels down in an effort to enter his home through the front door, and straight into the open garage before him, his feet guiding him slowly towards his father's awaiting car…_

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><p>He swears that with all of these interruptions flying towards him at a mile a minute, by the time he actually does find Jacob Ben-Israel and punches the living piss out of him, he won't even remember what the assault was even for anymore…<p>

"Hey Puck!"

"What!" The teenager yells in his exasperation towards being stopped in his very distinct path for what seems like the millionth time in this day alone… He turns with an exaggerated hunch of his shoulders, eyes narrowing down the length of the hallway and towards the source of the noise before him…

The second that his eyes manage to focus however, his threatening form diminishes into a lump of submissive cowardice… He can't help but to wallow at the sight before him, and hell, he was certain that nobody could ever possibly blame him…

Santana Lopez is storming up the length of the senior hallway, literally stomping in her motions, her arms swinging exaggerated in an effort to project her rapid motions so that she is nailing harshly and painfully, any passerby that is not smart enough to move out of her way…

Noah can see that the young Latina's eyes are glinting with a hint of red from all the way at the opposite side of the hall… There is practically steam billowing from her ears at this point, and unfortunately, she is staring straight at him in a manner that tells Noah that he is about to have an incredibly unpleasant, and incredibly public conversation.

All around them, heads are turning; swiveling back and forth like a damn tennis match, unsure of who it is that they should be staring at; Noah or Santana… Of course, Santana could not of have picked a more inopportune time than now to confront the boy for whatever the hell it was that he had done… Moments before the class bell rang, signifying the end of the lunch period, William McKinley High School's senior hallway was the most populated area in the entirety of the school…

Noah is more than painfully aware of the idea that every single patron of William McKinley High is here to watch this interaction unfold right now.

The closer that Santana gets to him, the more Noah realizes however, that the red he had previously detected inside her eyes hadn't been a trick of the light, a perceived notion in his fear after all…

Santana has been crying.

"Why the hell have people been coming up to me all goddamn day asking me when it is that my fucking baby is due, Noah?" Noah's blood runs instantaneously frozen… He has had the worst feeling all day long that should Karofsky have known about Santana's pregnancy scare, then that the rest of the school couldn't have been much further behind…

He had been foolish to assume that it could never possibly happen this quickly… He knows this now.

"And why have they been taunting me, asking me what is going on between me and Brittney?" Her voice chokes upwards into her throat the second time that she addresses him. Tears sheathe prominently across her dull, brown eyes so that Noah can't help but to turn his gaze away as his blood runs cold inside of his veins.

Karofsky had spilled… Noah should have known that he would… Noah did not trust that boy as far as he could throw him.

"And why the hell are they saying that Puck Corcoran is the one that has been telling him all of these rumors?"

"What?" This is truly the only thing that has actually shocked Noah so far amidst this conversation - Santana's accusation. "N-no, I didn't say anything about that last bit Santana, I swear it…"

Noah struggles to wrap his head around the notion of why anybody in their right mind would ever say something like that, but the lone idea leaves him stammering… If Karofsky had been enough of a dick to have spread the previously secretive news regarding Santana and Brittney's relationship in the first place, Noah would not be entirely too surprised should he have told them that the rumors had originated from Noah himself to begin with.

"Okay, look…" He retracts on his initial bid towards denial, attempting to construct an explanation that would make him sound the least at fault as humanly possible, "Me and Finn were talking inside of the locker room earlier this morning, and it was empty Santana, I swear it, until… well, until Karofsky just kind of walked in at the wrong moment…"

"What the hell were you doing talking about me in the first place, Corcoran?" Santana advances forwards on him; he can literally feel the heat that is radiating off of her body in her rage, and although Santana Lopez is at minimum, a foot shorter than him, Noah Corcoran finds himself more intimidated than he has ever been in his entire life.

Santana has him trapped inside of a tight corner; Noah knows that he couldn't get away even if he tried… The words part is, he knows that Santana is thinking along the very same lines as he currently is.

"It just… it just came up, okay…" He attempts to back her off of him, he feels like a caged animal stuck in a corner with her in front of him, and claustrophobia is something that he does not take kindly to… But the more that he tries to push her away, the closer that she moves forwards against him. "Finn said that you went to go talk to him this morning and it just kind of…"

"That conversation was supposed to be me and Finn…" She isn't listening to her excuses; she doesn't want to hear them.

"Great," He throws his hands up with exasperation; a day's worth of frustrations spiraling all around him, "More secrets? You know what Santana, why don't you try telling me the truth for once in your life and…"

He hears the sound of skin slapping against skin before he actually feels the palm colliding with the side of his cheek.

Not even the collective gasp that is emitted by the entirety of the student body before him is enough to silence the echoing sound as it travels across the entirety of the school before him.

His jaw relaxes, his mouth falling open in his surprise towards Santana's actions as he attempts to avoid the eyes, each one bearing a hole straight through both him and Santana… He doesn't notice the residual sting against his face, hell he doesn't notice anything save for his ex, storming away from him and desperately struggling to hold onto the tears inside of her eyes until she can round the corner into solitude.

The silence is deafening… He's at least grateful that his fellow classmates have the decency to retain their silence until Santana manages to disappear in her entirety… They're afraid of her; they're terrified of a vengeful Santana… just as much as he is.

By the time Noah finally does escape from the trap of his haze, the soft whispers all around him are already growing into isolated cackles, single jeers… He is more than aware of the idea that he needs to get the hell out of here before this escalates into much of anything else.

By the time he reaches the main entrance, all previous notions of pulverizing Jacob Ben-Israel are out of his head in its entirety… By the time that he reaches his car outside, Ms. Pillsbury's previous forewarning about doing better in school have flown straight out the window.

The only thing that he truly does know anymore is that he needs to get the hell out of here and he needs to do it quickly… even if he doesn't particularly know where it is that he is going to go.

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><p>He would have driven for hours on end had he ever had the time to do so.<p>

As it is, he should have known from the very beginning that the hospital was going to be the only place that he would ever actually wind up.

He is getting yelled at by his mother before he has even entered into Rachel's room… What else is new though – he can't help but to think – it hasn't been his day for years…. What the hell is a couple more, right?

"Noah, honey do you remember when you were about six months old and I taught you how to lift your feet when you walked?" She's yelling at him, but her voice is barely above a whisper, but still, the implication is all that needs to be there, "Because that would be a very important lesson for you to remember right about now."

At first glance, he would assume her words to have been the breed of a stressful day so that he tries not to relish on her snippiness too much… It is only after he has truly rounded inside of the room that her full intentions come into light and his heart melts with not blame, but guilt.

Shelby is seated strategically beside a sleeping Rachel inside of the girl's bed with her, and judging by the boy's initial assessment of his surroundings, even in sleep, Rachel seems particularly unwilling to let her mother go.

A thin arm clutches desperately around Shelby's own, the other holds a basin very similar to the one that he had seen earlier this morning safely beneath her elbow; prepared for a moment's notice.

Her eyes are closed but still, her slumber appears restless. Noah has known from as early as this morning that today was not going to be a particularly easy one for his sister, but still… he hadn't imagined this.

"Sorry…" He murmurs, exaggerating the motions of his feet so as to rectify his previous error as he establishes himself over in the corner of the room.

"No, don't be." Shelby waves him off apologetically for over reacting, "Rachel, she's just… she's had a bad day today is all… She's been throwing up all day. I think this might just be the first time that she's actually stopped long enough to get some sleep."

He nods alongside the understanding that this is something that he had expected after this morning.

"How was school" She rounds off into a brand new subject abruptly, "I can't help but to notice that you're out rather early."

"Uh… school was fine, I guess." Noah scratches suspiciously at the back of his neck, his hand rubbing up and down against his closely shaved hair… He makes an immediate decision not to mention the multitude of events that had triggered his abrupt exit from William McKinley this morning… not Karofsky, not his meeting with Emma Pillsbury, not Santana, not anything. "I have study hall the last two periods today so…"

"No you don't…" She's accusing his being a liar but her tone is soft enough as to allow him to know that she is not yelling at him. He has the slightest feeling however, that his sleeping sister inside of her arms might just have something to do with her resistance towards raising her voice… He makes a mental note to thank her should she possess the capacity to stay awake long enough without regurgitating the entirety of the contents of her stomach long enough to appreciate the gesture. "Unless of course, Physics and U.S. History has suddenly been replaced by study hall…"

"You know my schedule?" He's almost impressed. Of course, he would have been more impressed should her characteristic all knowingness have not been currently rallying against him.

"Noah, I am the mother of the most notorious kid at William McKinley High School. If you honestly think that I haven't had your school schedules memorized since you were in middle school, than you are sorely mistaken."

"Point taken…" He offers her a half smile although he is not entirely certain whether or not he should be taking that as a compliment or if he should be offended.

"You know, word on the street is that you have a pretty big football game coming up tonight." Noah's eyes snap upwards to meet his mother's. To say that he was surprised that she had remembered his plans amidst all of this chaos would be a complete understatement, "And if I'm not mistaken, which I'm not, you don't play if you are marked absent from school today."

His eyes soften immediately alongside the reminder… Of course, Shelby could never understand what it is that is truly going on inside of his mind right now; she couldn't understand because he wasn't mentioning it, despite the idea that for the life of him, he couldn't understand why…

Jason Granderson was going to be sitting in those stands at that football game, he was going to be sitting in those stands and he was going to do so with a big Notre Dame patch sewn to his chest and a clipboard inside of his hands to make notes about him… And Noah had damn near allowed something as petty as stupid high school problems to ruin all of that.

His mother had basically just saved his life… again.

"Honey, I know that you want to play in this game tonight…" Shelby smiles softly at him; her voice isn't emitted as a question, but a statement. He can tell in an instant that the only person on the face of this Earth that wants him to play in this game more than himself is his mother. "I can see it in your eyes, Noah, you need this game tonight, you deserve this game tonight Noah, do you hear me? You deserve this, you've earned this."

"Yes m'ame…" He isn't sure how else to respond; he can only nod his head in an effort to confirm her words, confirm that they are correct even though they both already know this…

"How about this…" She presents him with an offer; Noah leans forwards slightly in his seat, elbows resting against his knees as to bring his ears closer towards his mother, "I'll call the school and I'll tell them that you had a dentist appointment this afternoon. You'll get an excused absence, you'll go back to class, play in that game tonight and we'll call it a day."

"You'll do that?" His face brightens with hope, watching as Shelby nods her head softly in her response so that he can't help but to flood with relief towards the idea that his mother was so willing to help him out…

But her face doesn't reciprocate; it doesn't reflect his own expression… Instead, his mother's eyes fall sad, restless, uncertain… Her shoulders hunch, her hand squeezing tighter around Rachel's shoulder as she pulls the sleeping girl closer into her chest without Rachel so much as flinching.

"She wants State, Noah…" There's a ghost of a laugh inside of her eyes but the motion does not go beyond this, "She could barely stop talking about Semi's long enough to even throw up… I think… I think that she might still be beating herself up over Regional's, you know?"

"It's not her fault…" Noah waves off her mother's concern for the sake of his sister as if this would actually make any difference.

"Yeah, but you know your sister…" Noah can only nod; he certainly does know his sister; he knows her well enough to know that the damn president of the United States can come over here and tell her that their Regionals loss was not her fault and still, Rachel wouldn't believe it.

"I think that she might just be the only person in the entirety of this world that wants this game more than you do…" She laughs despite the fact that she is entirely serious, her eyes glancing downwards towards the girl inside of her arms as her fingers lace subconsciously through her hair. "Rachel expects State, Noah… She expects State and nothing else."

"She never expects anything but the best, I guess…" Noah smiles in his agreement, "She's like you, mom."

"You too…" Shelby points out so that he can't do much more than to shrug in his agreement, "There is not a person in this world that can do this other than you… I see what you do, Noah, I see it with my very own eyes… I believe in you, and I know that she does too."

"I've never played in a football game without Rachel there before…" The idea strikes him like a blow to the head… It was one that hadn't struck him until this moment, one that he hadn't even so much as considered…

But from the peewee's up until high school, Rachel had always been there… until now, anyway.

"Oh Noah…" Shelby sighs steeply alongside the understanding of just what a devastating blow this moment of realization must have caused her son... "I know that this has been tough on you, Noah, trust me I know that adjusting back to a normal life when your life is so far from normal is not an easy thing to get used to."

"I've been hearing this all day, you know…" Noah informs her without choosing to get into specifics, "People keep telling me that I need to start being better for Rachel."

"No," Shelby cuts her son off sharply, "You need to start being better for yourself."

Her words halt him abruptly… Even the incessant, nervous tapping of his feet against the linoleum ground below ceases in an instant in response to her words.

Noah finds himself embarrassingly close to tears, the plethora of emotions that has been raining down upon him all day now finally catching up with him inside of the only two words that he has been looking to hear all damn day now… Hell, the only two words that he has been looking to hear his entire life.

"Maybe… maybe I should just stay here tonight with you guys…" He is overcome with the sudden desire to not leave his families side, to be surrounded by their positive reinforcement, the reinforcement that he can never seem to get anywhere else, "I can help to take care of Rachel, you know… especially with her being so sick and everything today."

"Absolutely not," She stops him before the idea can so much as seep into him, "Noah, I love you, but I do not want to see your face tonight once during that game, do you hear me? You are going to that game tonight… You are going to that game and you're gonna win… as much as a corny mom that actually saying that might make me sound like."

"No, it's okay," He shakes off her misplaced apology.

"I'm sorry that I won't be able to be there tonight, buddy…" She sees the measure of loss still lingering prominently across her son's face in his mother and sister's promised absence and displays an instant remorse despite his acknowledgement towards the idea that there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it. "And I know that Rachel is too, but you know your Aunt Krista is going to be there tonight, and so are your grandparents so…"

"Did you set that all up?" He laughs because he knows that while his grandfather may have been a frequent patron of William McKinley football games, his aunt and his grandmother absolutely hated football…

"I'm your mother I have to make sure that there is somebody in those stands to cheer you on and embarrass you." She informs him, "And I will be listening to the broadcast on the radio the entire time, plus I'm making your aunt videotape the entire thing for me so that me and Rachel will be able to watch you be amazing as much as we want."

"Thanks mom," Noah nods genuinely, appreciative of absolutely everything that this woman is currently throwing at him.

"Don't thank me," She waves him off, "I'm your mother, that's my job." She shoots him an all-knowing glare that he has no choice but to reciprocate with a nod that acknowledges just how correct he know her to be.

She was right… of course she was right, his mother was always right.

Noah stands to his feet, he approaches his mother gratefully, leaning forwards to offer her a quick hug that she returns as best as she can in an awkward, one-armed manner; the best that she can possibly muster while still clutching firmly onto Rachel…

"I guess… I guess that maybe I will head back to school after all." He shrugs curiously; he knows that this is an action that he must commit to, his mother has made that certain, but at the same time, he is still looking for that one, final shove in the right direction from her; that last bit of motivation that he knows he will need to make it through this day.

"That would certainly be a start." Shelby nods… It isn't exactly the shove that he had been searching for per se, but he guesses that it is close enough.

"I'll be back as soon as the game is over," Noah promises, leaning forwards in order to kiss the top of his mother's head gently, terrified to so much as jolt Rachel awake, "I'll even give you a play by play if you're lucky."

"Please make sure that you shower first, Noah," She appears to be joking, but Noah knows that Shelby is being entirely serious… She has had the unfortunate experience of catching her son post-football, yet pre-shower one too many times to bring herself to be able to tolerate it tonight.

"I will." He promises, waving his goodbyes as he turns and makes his way towards the door, "Bye, mom."

His back is already turned towards her; he is halfway to the door still with so many things left unspoken, so many things left to be said…

He isn't entirely certain why he'd chosen not to mention everything that had happened to him in school today… His confrontation with David Karofsky that had very nearly ended in violence, his confrontation with Santana that _had_ ended in violence, his accidentally watering the seeds towards the already planted rumors of Rachel's condition… Not even the only positive thing that had come out of the day; the possibility of a college scout coming to grant him a future that he'd previously believed impossible…

He can only assume that he's too afraid of raising his hopes against the latter too high, should he only be met with the disappointment that he is so used to…

"Hey, Noah…" He is literally half way out the door by the time that Shelby does finally call him back inside. "I love you the most…"

He smiles towards her… There will be a time in the very near future for him to inform her of this multitude of life changing events, but now is certainly not that time… One foot in front of the other, she'd always told him.

One day, he promises himself… one day soon.

"I love you the most, mom."

* * *

><p>"You're here early."<p>

He barely hears the voice over the music that his blasting through his headphones and into his ears, but as the presence of a shadow hovering about his seated form heightens, so do his senses regarding his surroundings so that his eyes manage to turn upwards just in time so watch his best friend approaching him.

His toes, previously tapping in double time alongside the rhythm of his music, ceases almost immediately as Finn, already clad in his football jersey emblazoned with the familiar number five across the chest, swings his backpack from around his shoulder before taking a seat on the bench beside Noah.

"Got a lot on your mind?"

"What makes you say that?" Noah lifts his eyes from his entwined hands, pressed up and against his forehead in a symbolic gesture of deep thought for the better half of the past hour now, pulling his headphones slowly from his ears in a motion to indicate that Finn's presence is currently welcomed.

"I don't know…" Finn shrugs, offering his friend that famous, awkward side smirk that Noah knows, makes every female at William McKinley High School swoon "I just figured that I like to come down here too when I've got a lot of stuff on my mind…"

"So then what brought _you_ around so early, huh?" Noah turns his best friend's inquiry on its heels, questioning the boy alongside the understanding that if Finn too, had wandered into the boy's locker room in search for solitude so early in the day, that there must be some sort of logical reasoning behind it…

"Nothing really…" Finn's eyes detract from Noah's sharply, a look of alarm crossing abruptly throughout his features as if Noah had just caught him inside of some huge secret, "I guess that I just kind of figured that I would find you here."

"Did my mom put you up to this or something?" Noah cocks an eyebrow over towards Finn's general direction; he's suspicious of the boy seated before him, but honestly, who could blame him?

"I just guessed that when you didn't show up to history class this afternoon, it was probably because you ran off to the hospital to go see Rachel and you mentioned earlier that she was feeling particularly crappy today so… I figured that it would only be a matter of time before you showed up here looking to clear your head." He covers his tracks quickly and at this point, Noah is too amazed that Finn had actually been paying attention to him that morning in glee club to remember why it was that he had been suspicious of the boy to begin with. "Plus you have that scout coming and everything, and I know that you sure as hell got a million other things that you're trying to clear out of your mind before you go out to step onto that field tonight."

"Are you supposed to be helping?" Noah laughs but at the same time, he can't help but to be slightly serious… the constant reminders are not helping him; not one bit.

"Sorry…" Finn sinks visibly; he has never exactly been an expert on coming up with things to say in the midst of awkward conversation…that had always been Noah's job.

"Nah," Noah smirks as he shakes his head lightly as to indicate that he'd meant nothing by the playful accusation, "It's cool, dude."

"So what are you thinking?" Noah breathes deeply, searching desperately for a means by which to shy away from this rather depressing topic of conversation, classifying tonight's game as a perfect outlet, "About tonight, I mean."

"I'm thinking that you and me, we're gonna be on top of our shit all night long… that's what I think." Finn is wringing his massive hands against one another… His voice professes nothing but confidence but at the same time, his motions are indicative of just how nervous he truly is… Of course, with so much on the line tonight, who wouldn't be? "Those hicks down there, they don't stand a damn chance, man."

"All night…" Noah nods in his reciprocation; extending towards Finn, a closed fist that the boy reciprocates, wrapping his knuckles, gentle yet firm against those of his best friend's.

"All night."

"Corcoran, Hudson…" They're moment is quickly interrupted by the sound of their names being called in the distance; their coach rounding the corner only to be met with the surprise of locating his two star players already in the locker room awaiting kickoff. "What are you two doing here?"

"We've got a game, Coach." Finn shrugs as if the answer is obvious.

"Yeah…" Coach Tanaka nods suspiciously, "In about four hours."

"Just trying to get our minds in the right place is all." Noah answers, "You know, to do our thing."

"Alright…." The man respects the answer, trusting the two boys before him enough to understand that there were some things inside of those boys' heads even beyond the realm of football at the moment. "Actually, Corcoran, I'm glad that you're here… There's somebody that I want you to meet."

Noah's eyebrows arch curiously; he turns to meet his friend's expression briefly in search for an answer that he knows that Finn cannot possibly give him… The taller boy offers an expected shrug of his broad shoulders; a miniscule twitch as to indicate that he knows no more than his friend does before he is literally shoving Noah into a standing position, pushing the boy up and towards the direction of his coach, who is indicating silently with his hands for Noah to begin following him towards his office.

Noah follows his coach with a safe distance separating them… Usually, when he is being called into Ken Tanaka's office, it is only to be yelled at for being late to practice or for being a wise ass on the field, but he has the slightest feeling that this will not be the nature of their conversation today, and if so, that would mark the second time in one day that Coach Tanaka has not gone red in the face with his anger over something stupid that Noah has done, but has instead, called him into solitude only to praise him.

The door is wide open but Coach Tanaka doesn't enter into it right away… Instead, the man lingers against its border, motioning for Noah to proceed before him; an offer that the boy accepts nervously.

The second that he steps inside, he realizes that there is already a presence inside of the room waiting for him.

"Noah Corcoran?" The man stands to his feet. He's relatively short, an older man with a great presence; cleanly shaven with perfectly styled, silver hair that reminds Noah of the guy who's name that he can never remember that hosts all of those CNN shows that his mother and sister loved to watch so much, and a freshly pressed suit that has Noah thinking that maybe, he would be better suited for a wedding than a high school football game…

Noah has never met the man before but he knows exactly who he is the second that he sees him…

"Yes sir…" Noah nods meekly in his haze, his feet dragging him instinctually closer towards the man.

"I have been hearing a lot of your name lately, son, it's good to finally meet you…" He extends his hand outwards towards Noah, and the boy clasps onto it tightly, shaking it with all of his might, just praying that he would not notice the thin layer of nervous sweat that had since formulated against his palms, "Jason Granderson."

"Mr. Granderson," Noah clutches onto the man's hand significantly longer than what he know is actually necessary, his face flushing red when the older man becomes the first to pull away from the extended shake. "It's an honor, sir…"

"Please," The lax recruiter waves off the boy's formalities, offering him to sit directly across from himself in an offer that Noah gratefully accepts, "Call me Jason."

"Of course, I'm sorry Mr. Granderson… Jason, I mean Jason." Noah stumbles briefly, yet uncharacteristically over his own words, the man offering a hearty laugh in response to his nervous behavior.

"Son, I'm gonna cut right down to the chase here…" Jason Granderson leans forwards from his position inside of his seat, arms resting against his knees as he leans closer into the young football player before him. "I'm certain that you have heard of us before at the Notre Dame Football program."

"Of course…" Noah nods his head vigorously in an effort to express just how much he indeed knows about the famous Notre Dame Football team.

"The point that I am trying to get at Mr. Corcoran is that we are interested…" He nods his head over towards Noah, "Very interested."

"Really?" He can't help but to show his surprise as he perks upwards from inside of his chair, his eyes widening in his excitement towards such an enormous opportunity offered inside of such a seemingly simple sentence.

"We're ready to get this done, Mr. Corcoran." The man confirms, watching with a smirk as the boy before him glows brighter and brighter with each passing word that he speaks. "Pending, of course on your performance tonight; and at States…"

His guaranteed tone towards the team's presence at the State Championships allows Noah to understand that he has no choice other than to win this game tonight…

"I won't let you down, Mr. Granderson, I promise… I will play my very best." Noah nods his head vigorously; perhaps with a burst of over enthusiasm, "You… you really think that I'm ready for this? Do you really think that I'm good enough?"

"Son, I have been scouting running backs for Notre Dame for the past thirty years now…" Jason Granderson assures the boy sitting before him, staring him straight in the eye as he speaks, reaching a hand firmly upwards to place confidently against Noah's shoulder…

"You are the very best that I have ever seen."

* * *

><p>"It's game day, folks and I am telling you, I have not seen this kind of electricity in these William McKinley Titans in years…"<p>

The announcer's voice is practically drowned across even the most powerful of speaker systems by the crowd before him as Noah turns outwards and onto the field before him, preparing for the final series of what may truly be a life altering game…

"The McKinley offense has all but dominated this football game so far with a tremendous effort by running back Noah Corcoran who has scored three of the Titans' four touchdowns this game, as they enter what very well may be the final series of this Semi-Finals game tonight; fifty eight seconds are left on the clock, Titans lead it 28-3."

The young mohawked boy approaches the huddle as he sneaks one final glance upwards towards the stands… His grandmother is bundled upwards from head to toe against the freezing November weather; it can't help but to serve as a reminder as to why her and his grandfather had cut their winter-long vacation in Florida short to begin with…

He swallows the idea as the older woman catches his glance and waves enthusiastically with a bright smiles across her face despite the cold… His heart lurches with a quick embarrassment; his grandmother was identical to his mother in terms of mortifying him… Of course, he could never help but to love her all the same anyway.

"There are a lot of expectations out here on this young Titan's roster tonight… expectations that this team has since lived up to and then some." This announcer is relentless, Noah thinks as he soaks in absolutely every word that he has to offer, despite his body closing in against the eleven man huddle circled against the center of the field. "After a devastating loss to the Kenton Wildcats in the first game of the season this year, what is widely considered to be the best duo in the state of Ohio - Finn Hudson at quarterback with Noah Corcoran running behind him – is back on this field with a vengeance tonight to continue along their otherwise undefeated season… Let's see what these kids have left in the tank for us now."

"Yo Puck…" Finn calls for the clearly distracted boy's attention from the center of the huddle; Noah's eyes snap upwards immediately, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment the second that he realizes that the entirety of his team is staring directly at him. "Reverse end around pass fake… the play is coming to you, man…"

"Are you sure about this, dude?" Noah is skeptical about the challenging play that Finn has presented him with… He has never in the entirety of his life nailed this move; hell, he has never even so much as seen a college player nail it… After a multitude of failures during practices, Coach Tanaka had never actually allowed them to risk it during a game; but this game is not on the line tonight, Noah knows this… They have been graced with just the right amount of breathing room that they needed to allow Noah an opportunity to truly shine.

This was the boy's time to show off… If he was going to play college ball, now was the time for him to prove to that man sitting up in those bleachers that he was capable of doing so.

"Of course, man…" Finn assures him, slapping at the pads layering his best friend's shoulders in an effort to emphasize his tone of confidence… "Omaha on three, ready… Break."

The huddle dissolves, his teammates scattering for position… Noah breathes deeply, trying to present as nothing less than a beacon of confidence as he raises his mouth guard to his lips and chances one final glance towards the stands…

His grandfather is chatting away animatedly with none other than Jason Granderson himself… There is thankfully, a smile on both men's faces… Noah knows his grandpa's tendency to gloat over his family, he had been nervous; but luckily, the man seems to, at the very least, appreciate it.

Noah can't help but to swell with confidence… For the first time in the entirety of his life, things finally seem to be heading towards the right direction for a change.

"Omaha!" Finn's gruff play call pushes Noah back to reality; his quarterback is already aligned behind his center, leaving Noah's knees bending in preparation, ready to run faster than he has ever run in his entire life… "Omaha, twenty two…"

They're up by twenty five with a minute left to play… Common courtesy might state for Finn to take a knee, to ground the ball in an effort to allow for the clock to run down without causing these sorry saps across from them any more embarrassment, but Finn has called for the rush alongside the acknowledgement that Noah has found an opportunity to highlight his greatest of skill upon the scout before him, leaving the man hopefully impressed by Noah Corcoran's ability to run all over what had previously been ranked the number one seed predicted to win State this year…

"Omaha twenty two hut…." Noah watches with expertly trained eyes as David Karofsky snaps the ball backwards and into Finn's awaiting hands. The young quarterback shuffles backwards into the pocket just as Noah jolts forwards with a vengeful force, his arms stretched outwards and prepared to accept the handoff.

"Finn Hudson hands the ball off to Puck Corcoran, and… No! It's a fake!" Noah is only vaguely aware of the announcer above him and his uncanny ability to leave the entirety of the audience on the edges of their seats, even when the game's final results won't nearly be affected by the success or failure of the young running back as the boy cuts right, dodging defenders expertly in his efforts to make himself open for the long pass to come. "It's a fake and Hudson goes high!"

The ball is overthrown; Noah can tell the second that it leaves Finn's hands that it has been sent soaring straight past Noah's head… But for some reason, that only makes Noah want it even more.

He bursts off of the balls of his feet, strategically stiff-arming any defender in his path… He's barely touched as he explodes past the final safety in his way; he is on the heels of the ball, his arms are outstretched, his hands as wide as he can possibly make them in an effort to form the perfect cradle for the ball to land within.

"And he's got it! Corcoran has got the ball for a beautiful catch!"

He hears the announcer relish on Noah's own, personal victory before he actually feels the ball nestle itself comfortably inside of his outstretched palms.

There is nobody within five yards of him; Noah takes off running alongside the understanding that he is in a position where he can run clear across the state should he be so inclined, and there would be nobody there to stop him… The idea alone seems suddenly appeasing

"Corcoran breaks to the outside and he's got plenty of room… He's on the forty, the thirty, the twenty… he's going all the way!" The wind slaps fleetingly against his skin and Noah is suddenly certain that he has never run faster in the entirety of his life. He's almost wishing that this could last forever… Noah has not felt this free in years. "It's good! It's good, and Puck Corcoran scores to seal an already huge deficit and the Titan's take it, 34-3… We're going to State for the second year in a row folks, we're going to State!"

A sweltering roar filters inwards, circling all around him… Noah finds himself suddenly trapped inside of his own end zone, the football still clutched protectively inside of his grip as if afraid to release it despite the idea that his victory has already been far sealed…

His teammates are the first to begin the stampede. They rush towards their own end zone from every possible angle; players, coaching staff, hell, even the tiny water boy that Noah is certain, was still in elementary school…

Of course, it is the fans, each and every one storming from the bench, stampeding onto the field before him that truly has his heart racing in a well deserved self pride…

Noah is certain that he would not have been able to move, even if he had tried.

All around him, there are people everywhere he turns looking for an opportunity to offer him their congratulations, to shake his hand, to remind him that he had just played the game of his life, single-handedly decimating the most challenging team that they are scheduled to face in this playoff series…

And they hadn't even arrived at State's yet… Their second victory in as many years was rapidly beginning to appear to be a shoe in.

Noah turns quickly; he strains, yields to the overjoyed crowd in a desperate search for the one face that he is actually looking to see at the moment… After all, the scoreboard does not reflect a goddamn thing, and Noah knows it…

Sure, he may have just impressed the entirety of the city of Lima before him, but they didn't matter… The entire city of Lima did not possess the capacity to send him off to college on a full ride, the entire city of Lima did not have the ability to sign and stamp his one way ticket straight into the NFL…

In fact, it seemed as if but one man; the one man that had actually strayed from outside of the Lima boundaries to come see him tonight could perform any of these actions… And that man was in fact the one man that Noah was looking to impress.

His eyes quickly spot the lingering form of Jason Granderson in the stands beyond… The man must have been the only one – save for his grandmother who could hardly even walk anymore – still sitting inside of the bleachers… But still, he is looking impressively pleased with the boy's performance, and for the first time since he had been told of the man's imminent arrival, Noah allows his heart to swell with relief, with the highest of expectations, with hope…

The short nod that the man offers him is enough to nearly put the boy over the edge in his entirety…

Noah allows himself to smile, to be happy; to _truly _be happy and to relax amidst the overwhelming pressures, the burdens that have been constantly surrounding him for the first time all day…

Finally, he can't help but to feel as if maybe, he truly does deserve everything that he has currently being handed to him; every missed childhood moment, every lost opportunity, it is all being made up to him right here in this very spot.

And considering the idea that these moments are rarities for the young football legend, he relishes within them, hell, he positively embraces them.

Noah is more than aware of the idea that most of the time, his biggest problem lies in the notion that everything bad that has ever actually happened to him, isn't always in fact up to his control at all, but beyond…

Life happens; Noah knows this, he knows this more than anybody else in the world, but at the same time, he also knows that fate has a way of being unpredictable, unprecedented in its ability to around at a moment's notice right in your own face…

And at that point, yes, it _does_ actually become up to you to figure out what it is that you are going to do with it.

Noah finds himself bracing abruptly, his overwhelmed body up and against the wall of people all struggling to shove themselves a little bit closer to him… He is suddenly even more acutely aware of the idea that he has already understood vaguely… the idea that he is about to enter into one hell of a fight, the fight of his very life.

The only difference between the acknowledgment from now, and from before is that now he finally knows that a fight for your life possess the capacity to strike in more ways than only one.

* * *

><p><strong>Miee<strong>** – Thank you kindly for your lovely words! I'm glad your liking Noah's POV because his is definitely my favorite to write, you get a bit more diversity with Noah I feel than you do with Rachel and Shelby… There are also much more Rachel and Noah moments in the future so hold on!**

**Readerfotlife**** – Thank you a million! As always, it is greatly appreciated!**

**TheSecretToLifeIsMusic**** - Glad you enjoyed, things are definitely starting to heat up and Noah's got some pretty tough times ahead so brace yourself! I'm glad you're liking Noah's POV's because I am loving writing them and don't really want them to stop… you gotta love sensitive Noah :) Thank you for the feedback, it is all greatly, greatly appreciated!**

**Someone Like You**** – Haha, I figured I'd try and sneak a bit of Finchel in there, but be wary, things aren't exactly gonna be a walk in the park for those two. There are gonna be a lot of people who are gonna be really upset once their relationship begins to progress. Thanks for the review!**

**Claireleanne**** – Oh yay, I'm glad you stumbled upon my little story! Thank you for the review, I appreciate it!**

**Becky**** - Thank you! I'm glad you liked it :)**

**Ballerina03**** – Haha I'm glad you enjoyed! I felt kind of bad for throwing so many things at Noah all at once (but apparently not too bad because there's still more to come), plus I've been watching a lot of Friday Night Lights lately which kind of inspired the football thing which will become a bit more important for him once States roles around… Thanks for the well wishes! I broke it being a dumbass pretending I actually know how to do gymnastics on the fire escape of my building like my mom has been telling me not to do since I was five years old haha. I just have a soft cast, they didn't put a hard one on because my arm is basically made of metal now, I got 2 plates and 16 screws put in the other day but the good news is the x-rays are really, really cool haha. Typing actually turned out to be not as much of a pain in the ass as I originally thought it would so I guess that's good news. Anyways, thanks so much for the review, I'm glad you like Noah chapters because I love writing Noah chapters. Also, Quinn will pop in after Noah's little arc is through with Rachel probably in the next two or three chapters. Thanks again, you're amazing!**

**Baygirl123**** – Yay, thanks for the review I'm glad you enjoyed! Santana is going to start connecting emotionally with Noah more than she ever did when they were actually dating which is going to lead to her interacting with Rachel a little bit more, and Quinn will have an entire other set of reasons for reaching out towards Rachel that will come to light as soon as this little arc with Noah is finished. **


	28. Noah Corcoran March 2001

**First and foremost, I have to apologize for the long wait… I took the MCAT last Thursday and basically lived as a hermit to the world the week leading up to it followed by a much needed vacation down the shore, so that's my excuse I hope you forgive me!**

**Anyway, I know that this is a bit short but I wanted to get something up and now that I'm free for a little while, things will be moving a bit faster so thank you so much for being patient with me and for being amazing readers as always.**

* * *

><p><strong>Noah Corcoran – <strong>March 2001

* * *

><p>He has never once worn a tie and his initial impression of the garment is not one of particularly good graces.<p>

His mother is practically strangling him; it does not particularly help that her hands are trembling as she adjusts the fabric knot about his neck… He may be only six years old but still, the idea of a length of cloth barely thicker than a coil of rope designed to wrap itself about a person's neck seems entirely illogical… borderline psychotic even.

He has known this since he had been four years old, after he'd attempted to walk his sister about the house as if she were a dog… leash and all. His mother had luckily walked in on the two just as he'd been attempting to wrap his makeshift leash – fashioned out of an old extension cord – around Rachel's neck.

"You look very handsome, Noah…" Shelby's voice shakes slightly, but Noah pretends as if not to catch the motion; a tactic that he has become a genuine expert in as of late…

He doesn't feel particularly handsome; instead, he feels trapped, enclosed, as if he is being suffocated by an armful of dress pants and jackets and stupid ties although, in actuality, the clothes are easily an entire size too big for him…

Apparently, funeral suits for six year olds were not a frequent design.

Noah's eyes turn away from those of his mother's as she squats downwards at his eye level… Her bloodshot eyes, that cold, solid black dress that is so unlike his mother, who is usually nothing less than vibrant… He doesn't want to look at the face of change anymore; he _can't_.

Shelby takes a slow breath that is so deep that for a moment, he is entirely convinced that she is going to blow him over in her exhale… Noah staggers slightly on his feet in an effort to retain his balance, although he is certain that his perceived tumble to the ground is nothing but an imaginary notion all inside of his very own head.

His head twitches involuntarily, his eyes darting upwards… The second his glare meets with that of his mother's, he can tell that she is struggling for something to say to fill in the thick air between them… and that her efforts are rapidly failing.

"Noah honey, I need you to talk to me here, okay?" Noah is not entirely certain exactly how many hours it has been since he has spoken so much as a single word, but he is certain that it has been a long time; an entire day by now, maybe even longer…

"Noah, please…" Her voice is laced with tears the second that she realizes that he is not going to respond to her… Noah watches them as they well inside of her eyes, and his heart burns with a longing to please her, a longing to relieve her impossible pain, but he can't seem to bring himself to meet with her request no matter how hard he tries…

He can only watch as the budding tears finally plummet from her eyes, performing a suicidal plunge down the length of her cheeks… He doesn't speak, he doesn't seem to remember how to, but eventually, he finds the strength inside of him to at least move… Reaching upwards, Noah allows for the oversized sleeves of his jacket to fall down the length of his arms as he gently wipes one of the enormous water droplets from his mother's cheek; leaving nothing but a thin, wet trail behind in its wake.

"Sweetheart, I know that you are very sad right now and that you must be very, very confused about what is happening…" Shelby wipes the remainder of the tears from her eyes on her own accord, wiping at them until her face is entirely dry once more, evidence of previous tears left in nothing more than tear tracks and a significant swelling wrapped about both of her eyes. "I know that you're looking for answers, but honey, right now not even I have those answers for you…"

Noah's eyes turn downwards once more; he's no longer feeling up to looking at his mother, instead finding solace in the carpeted floor below his feet, the shiny black shoes that his mother had somehow managed to squeeze him into despite the fact that they were the only part of his outfit that wasn't too big for him, but instead, exceptionally small.

"Okay…" Shelby accepts her momentary defeat where she sees it, acknowledging her son's lack of a desire to speak… for now. "Come on, Noah," Shelby stands robotically to her feet alongside a heavy sigh, extending her hand outwards and towards her son, who at least doesn't hesitate in his motion to reach out and grab it. "We still have to go to Toledo to pick up your sister…"

She guides him carefully towards the front door, his hand still nestled protectively within her own; each step that they take growing heavier and heavier all around them…

"And then we can go to the cemetery."

* * *

><p>"<em>Baruka atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam dayan ha-emit."<em>

_Shelby takes the deepest of breaths, inhaling shakily through her nose despite the idea that it still feels as if she is getting absolutely no air into her lungs whatsoever…_

_ She is drowning; there is no other explanation for it… They are in northwestern Ohio; they are hours from any major bodies of water, but still, that didn't seem to matter…_

_The majority of drowning victims meet their fate in less than three inches of water… And considering Shelby knows that if you pile up her grief, it will meet well beyond that quota, she is certain that she is drowning._

_Noah can see her as she paces about the living room; back and forth and back and forth… She rotates in and out of the miniscule frame of vision that the soft crack through the guest bedroom of his grandparents' rental home has to offer him._

_ They couldn't go home, not quite yet anyway… There were police everywhere working frantically to put together the pieces of a seemingly clear puzzle, nosy neighbors looking for any hint of gossip to pass along to their friends, those who weren't lucky enough to be able to see the live display…_

_ They couldn't go home right now, but Noah is grateful; he is certain that he would never want to go back inside of that house for as long as he lived. _

"_Barukh atah – "_

"_Mom, please stop…" Shelby pauses in her frantic pacing to shoot her harsh request towards her mother… She is directly in Noah's line of vision now as he hides in the darkened safety of his bedroom; invisible to the world, invisible to everybody…_

_ He can see the widened globes of his mother's eyes, wrinkled with grief, stained with tears as her sister approaches her in an effort to comfort the older woman, only to be pushed away…_

_ "It's part of our religion, Shelby…" His grandmother is trying her hardest to remain calm, but even Noah knows that this is a difficult task to partake in with so much grief hanging through the air, "The prayer of the deceased…"_

_ "Only needs to be said once, mom…" His Aunt Krista speaks confidently, yet quietly from the corner of the room in an effort to quell the brewing argument between her mother and sister before it has so much as has the chance to begin._

_ "Let's not do this right now…" Noah cannot see his grandfather from the man's position on the couch, but his voice, his tone, the manner by which it still manages to direct itself towards the young boy hiding behind the door is all the familiarity that Noah needs for a sense of recognition. _

"_I just… How the hell is this happening right now? How could he have done this?" Shelby falls backwards, reminiscent of her husband's uncanny ability to sweep her right off of her feet… even in her grief. Noah is certain that had the solitary love seat positioned directly behind her not been there to catch her, she would have fallen straight to the very floor below… and probably wouldn't have even noticed the difference. "How the hell could Hiram have done this to me… to our children?"_

_ "Did he leave anything behind?" Noah's ears perk with confusion. He is not entirely certain what it is that his grandfather is trying to say, he doesn't get it… he doesn't get any of it, really. "A note, an explanation… anything?"_

_ "I don't know…" Shelby sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand; her motion of exhaustion more recognizable to Noah than even her own words, "The police haven't let me anywhere near the house…"_

"_When is the funeral?"_

"_Tomorrow… maybe the day after," Shelby provides her answer with a soft shake of her head in an effort to indicate her uncertainty towards the situation in its entirety, "The temple is setting everything up, they're gonna keep me updated."_

_ "What about Rachel and Noah?" Noah's muscles stiffen as he hears both his and his sister's name… It was a given, them being brought up in the course of conversation, Noah knows this, but he also knows that whatever anybody has to say about either him or Rachel, he was interested… very interested…_

_ "What about them?" Shelby asks as if she has not been anticipating the question, but Noah knows better; she had to have been… If he had been expecting it, then there was no way that his mother had not been… She has a notorious reputation for always being one step in front of the entire lot of them. _

_ "Are you going to take them to the funeral?" Noah seems confused by his grandfather's question… He knows what a funeral is; he had heard his parents fighting about how to conduct Rachel's while she was sick in intensive care, when nobody had believed that she was going to make it other than him…_

_A funeral was a chance to see somebody that you loved one last time… it was a chance to say goodbye._

_So why wouldn't him and Rachel attend? Why might they be prevented from being given the opportunity to say goodbye to their father?_

_ "I don't know…" His mother's answer leaves his heart aching; he can't possibly understand why it is that she would ever consciously choose to keep him from saying his goodbyes to the man that had taught him how to ride a bicycle, he man that had attended every peewee baseball game; no matter how boring, the man that had taught him himself how to become a man… "Rachel doesn't… she doesn't even know yet… I haven't… I don't know what to tell her…"_

_ Tears are choking inside of Shelby's voice once more… She finds herself burying her head inside of her hands, allowing the saline droplets to fall freely, her back heaving with the multitude of emotions currently racing through her very veins. _

_ "What am I supposed to tell her?" Shelby seems to be speaking to absolutely no one as she asks the impossible question, the one that even Noah knows nobody will ever be able to answer but herself, "I didn't even know how to tell her that Hiram moved out, how am I supposed to tell him that he's… that he… that he's dead?" _

_ Shelby stumbles over her own words, her tears overcome by an overwhelming confusion that not even grief can shadow behind her eyes. Her head shakes gently from side to side in an emphasis of her unknowingness._

_ Noah senses the exaggerations of her ever movement – the fiddling of her hands, the heaving of her shoulders, the wondering of her wide, empty eyes… He senses that he will be caught in his hiding in due time should he choose not to immediately retreat backwards inside of the safety of his bedroom, but he suddenly doesn't care…_

_Silently he understands that at this point, he wants his mother to find him. _

_He pushes his body subconsciously further into the light of the hallway, sticking his tiny frame between the door and the living room, where, as expected, his mother catches his eyes quickly…_

_ Noah watches as Shelby pauses; mother and son staring eye to eye so that Shelby is immediately stilled in her motions… Without a single word to any of the variety of family scattered about the room, she stands, retreating towards him, practically gliding as she all but ignores the incessant questions of her parents and sister before her. _

_Shelby simply motions for their stillness before she sneaks quietly into the bedroom, Noah backing up silently so that so that his slightly taller mother could slip through the doorway and into the room, closing the door quietly behind her as to give the two some much needed privacy._

_ She isn't certain exactly where to begin, Noah can tell; she has that look in her eyes, that look that he has become so used to as of late… Her face is embedded into a permanent frown, and now that he thinks about it, Noah can't even remember the last time that he saw his mother smile. _

_ He tries to instigate the motion that he so longs for, grinning happily towards him in an expression that never truly reaches either of his eyes… His two bottom teeth at the center are still missing from when he'd lost the both of them just last week, but despite his best efforts, not even his toothless grin can help… She tries, Lord knows she is trying as hard as she possibly can, but the smile that she returns to him comes across as nothing more than an ugly grimace. _

_ His plan is failing; he can tell so that he is immediately forced to turn to Plan B; that is, if he cannot make his mother laugh, if it simply hurts too bad to bring so much as a smile to her face, he will simply hold her until this moment of paralyzing grief passes… He leans forwards and into her… he has grown in this past month, but still, he barely reaches above her waist as he wraps his arms about her, buries his head deep into her gut and holds her as tightly as he can possibly muster._

_It's a big move; almost overwhelmingly huge in the reminder that it had been a six year olds decision made… But Noah had grown up months ago, he was not a child anymore, Shelby knows this…_

_ There is not so much as a hesitation before her arms are reciprocating her motions, holding him across the upper back, pushing him even further into her body as she offers the comfort that each so desperately needed._

_ "You're getting older now, Noah… I can't believe you're going to be seven already in less than a month." It's several moments before Shelby actually speaks so that once she finally does, Noah finds himself surprised in his lack of expectations towards the motion, "But you never get old enough to deal with things like this… Nobody should ever have to go through something like this."_

_ He isn't entirely certain how it is that he's supposed to be responding, so he simply doesn't… Shelby seems to understand this easily, finally, it seems, she doesn't appear to be searching for answers so that instead, she pulls away from her son, guides him carefully by the shoulder over towards the bed in the center of the room where she seats herself besides him, feet planted firmly on the ground while his, still too short to reach, dangle freely._

_ "Noah, I know that this is confusing but… I need to ask you… do you understand what it is that your dad did today?" Noah considers this question, but mostly, he just considers the answer instead… He doesn't understand, he doesn't understand much of anything these days…_

_ Despite his bitter judgment to lie and tell his mother that he does indeed understand, simply to spare her the heartache of having to repeat the story all over again, Noah shakes his head…_

_ "Noah…" She sighs heavily, her arm draping about the back of his shoulders as she pulls her son closer into her side, "Sometimes people… sometimes people get so sad that they don't… that they can't handle things anymore."_

_ "Daddy didn't want to be alive anymore?" The notion doesn't make a whole lot of sense to him… He doesn't understand why it is that somebody simply wouldn't want to be alive anymore… not after they've spent the past three months doing everything in their power to save Rachel. _

_ "No," Shelby shakes her head gently and Noah can't help but to notice that the grip upon her shoulders is almost painfully constricting. "Your daddy made a decision, and it's a decision that he can't take back… But Noah, I need you to know that it wasn't anything that you or your sister did that made your father so upset… There were a lot of different reasons, but neither you or Rachel was one of them, okay?"_

_ The boy retains his silence; it sure as hell was starting to seem as if it were his fault… He had been the one who had always been pushing Rachel too hard to play with him, he had been the one that was in the middle of it all when his parents had been fighting, when his father had disappeared for good…_

_Yes, the more that Noah was actually thinking about it, the more that it was starting to seem that this was indeed, entirely his own fault. _

"_Okay, Noah?" She emphasizes her initial questioning in response to his silence, jolting the boy slightly in an effort to receive an affirmative answer._

_ "Okay…" The boy finally answers alongside a short nod, but it doesn't seem entirely too convincing… He's confused; he's confused because by now, all of the tragedy that seems to swelter about his family is starting to mesh into one, giant cluster so that he can't help but to ask, "Momma?"_

_ "Yeah honey?" The mother wipes her fingers gently through Noah's short hair as his face contorts to express his struggle to piece his words together without making his mother more upset than she already was._

_ "Did… did daddy go where Rachel is going to go next?" It seems like logical wording, the only possible means by which to construct the scope of just what he was trying to ask…_

_His mother's silence in response is enough to indicate that maybe, he should have just kept his mouth shut all along._

* * *

><p>Noah has never been particularly fond of the rehabilitation clinic that Rachel had been moved into following her weeks long stay in intensive care…<p>

Forget that it was a nearly two hour drive away, that he didn't get an opportunity to see her nearly as much as he used to despite the knowledge that she hated being alone; now more than ever before; the building was always freezing cold, it was ugly and gray, the people weren't nearly as nice as they had been at Lima Memorial…

He hated this place; it wasn't right for his sister, it wasn't right for him, it wasn't right for any of them.

He hated how torn the distance has left his family… Shelby spent the majority of her time in Toledo, Noah his with his grandparents or his aunt ever since Hiram had left the picture, now permanently.

His father's death had left them with nothing more than a desire to unify his family once more, as impossible as that may be now… Hell, they were falling apart already; his father was dead, his aunt had spent the night with Rachel while Shelby had spent the entirety of yesterday with her…

Noah knows that Shelby had told Rachel about Hiram's death… He doesn't know the details of their conversation, doesn't know how much of the story that Rachel actually knew, but based on Shelby's warnings to Noah not to speak too much about it, he reckons that the details are few and far between.

He has been holding onto his mother's hand a lot more lately; he wasn't even worried about being embarrassed anymore…

Sure, he may be nearly seven years old by now, and sure, his classmates and friends might consider himself too old for the action, but his image was the absolute least of his concerns right now…

Right now, well a hand to hold didn't seem so bad after all.

He doesn't care what his classmates would say to him if they ever saw him, how much they would make fun of him… They simply didn't understand; his mother had taught him that lesson a long time ago.

Noah has since learned not to hold this against them… He can only hope that nobody else his age would ever have to experience something so tragic that they would have to regress back to having to hold onto their mother's hand just to find a sense of comfort.

His feet are swelling painfully with every step that he takes; his shoes are too small, he has known this ever since his mother had squeezed him into them… He still hasn't been able to bring himself to say anything to her.

He hasn't been able to bring himself to say much of anything these days.

His father had died two days ago now and already, the word about the streets was beginning to spread like wildfire… They were still staying at their grandparent's home; Shelby had been given the opportunity to enter into their house in order to collect some of their belongings, but at the time, she had strictly forbade Noah's presence.

He silently wonders how long she will keep pretending that he is still a child.

People have been dropping food off at his grandparent's ever since _that_ day… Casseroles, mostly, things that he hates, things that he wouldn't eat even if somebody forced it down his own throat.

He's starving, but the idea of eating so much as a morsel of food makes him physically nauseous; yet another conflicting array of confusion that leaves him craving for the answers that he is certain he will never actually receive.

His mother dragging him rapidly through the halls of Toledo Rehabilitation Center isn't helping the churning inside of his stomach either…

They are on a time crunch, Noah knows that they are on a time crunch; they are late as it is and the two hour drive either way, to and from Lima isn't helping, but still, he can't help but to wish that everything would just slow down.

Maybe he is the only one who isn't in much of a hurry to watch his father get put into the ground.

Rachel is long awaiting and ready to go by the time they finally arrive at her room, his Aunt Krista dressed and standing directly besides the girl, looking freakishly identical to her sister in her knee length black dress and sad, tired eyes.

His sister is seated motionlessly inside of a wheelchair; she is improving, his mother was constantly insisting, she _was_ improving, but for Rachel, improvement meant that she could now take two or three steps without falling down as opposed to none…

She is confined to a wheelchair and wearing a bright red sundress that makes her stick out like a sore thumb; a dress that hasn't fit her in over a year… not until she'd been reduced to mere skin and bone… more so than usual anyway.

A surgical mask is secured protectively about her nose and mouth, designed to free her from the threat of whatever sort of infection is lingering in the great wilderness of the awaiting graveyard, ever prepared to attack her fragile, susceptible body… The white hat that covers her ever-bald head only makes it appear even less like she is getting ready to attend her own father's funeral.

It had taken a lot of persuasion to convince Shelby to allow for Rachel's attendance; Noah himself had gotten dizzy just watching his mother going back and forth between her decisions, but ultimately she knew that the correct answer had been there all along…

The choice seemed obvious.

"Okay, are you guys ready to go?" It is the first thing that Shelby has said in hours, but she is so frantic, so hurried, so rushed that it almost sounds as if she's asking her children whether or not they are ready to go on a play date rather than to their own father's funeral.

Noah is dazed by her tone but he recovers quickly the second that Shelby scoops him up from underneath the armpits and places him in the oversized wheelchair besides his sister… He is squished uncomfortably into the armrest as he attempts to leave as much room as humanly possible for his sister; even if it is at the expense of his own comfort.

He's being distant; his father has always said that this was the markings of a man; emotional distance that real men never allow for their true colors to ever show, their feelings… He can only guess that in a sense, this must have made his father a true man because not Noah, not even Shelby had sensed that he had been so sad that he didn't even want to be alive anymore.

Rachel is desperately attempting to catch his eye; she's squirming against him, leaning into his body, even tugging at the oversized fabric of his sleeve trying to capture his attention, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, pretends that he is uninterested, pretends that he doesn't want to hear a single word of it.

He can feel his mother's hands lingering against his body, squeezing tightly at his shoulders before finally releasing them as they begin their long trek down the length of the hallway that they had just walked up no more than a minute ago.

The transaction is quick, simple; it moves wordlessly and without problem… They're back at the elevators before the doors have so much as had an opportunity to close behind them on the way in.

They are seconds from a clean getaway before Noah hears his mother's name ultimately calling him back.

"Mrs. Corcoran! Mrs. Corcoran, wait!"

The older woman's arm darts outwards instinctively, catching the crease between the elevator door and the wall just in time to prevent the small, confining box from descending, stranding tem permanently from such seemingly important news…

The door slides slowly back open, revealing the familiar nurse behind it; one of the few in this hospital that Noah actually enjoys, one of the few that he actually trusts to take care of his sister…

But today he is understandably nervous, untrustworthy… He places a protective arm about his sister's shoulder and squeezes her tight, getting as much of her body behind him as she possibly can.

Today, Noah is not willing to take chances.

"Shelby, I'm glad I caught you," The woman is hunched forward, knees on her hands and out of breath as she hovers against the space between the elevator and the hallway in an effort to prevent the door from closing behind them once more, "I just got a phone call from Lima Memorial…"

This news seems to interest Shelby; she perks instantly, the wheelchair stiffening behind them as their mother's hands tighten instinctively about the handlebars.

"They wanted me to inform you that a cash account has just been opened under Rachel's name… They want her back in Lima to begin preparations for a potential stem cell transplant…"

"What?" Shelby's mouth drops open in her shock and the second that Noah swivels his head around to face her, he notices that his aunt is wearing a very similar expression across her own face… "I… I didn't hear anything… they want to move her? Is she ready for that… When did this happen… how…" Shelby stammers over her words, over the news far too large to properly grapple with pinned against the corner of an elevator wall… She pauses through a deep breath, commits to a soft, shaky inhale as she closes her eyes and attempts to focus her thoughts before releasing the one question that she truly wants the answer to…

"Who?"

"Your husband…" The nurse's voice is soft, understanding as she eyes the group's funeral suits in a silent acknowledgment towards everything that has happened to the small family, where it was that they were going, "I'm not certain of the details, but something about a life insurance policy left under Rachel's name…"

"Oh God…" Shelby sighs heavily, reaching upwards to rub her tired eyes as if trying to scramble for a sense of focus on but one of the multitude of overwhelming topics currently pervading inside of her mind…

"They want to know if you can bring Noah down this morning in order to test him as a potential stem cell donor…" Noah's ears perk violently upwards in response to hearing his name… He eyes Rachel nervously; it is rare, if not unheard of that the two are mentioned interchangeably in regards to the progress of Rachel's health.

He might not understand entirely, the scope of the current conversation between the two woman, but the look in his mother's eyes is worrying him… it's worrying him a lot.

"We're on our way to a funeral…"

"It only takes a blood stick…" The nurse standing before them insists quickly, cutting off Shelby in the understanding that their day is already cutting it close without the added factor of testing her oldest as a potential stem cell donor for her youngest. "In and out, I promise… The faster this happens, the faster we can move on with getting Rachel on track for transplant."

Shelby's eyes find Noah's quickly, locking in a manner that allows Noah to read deeply into the thought processes behind hers… He is certain that she can see the concern behind his own in return; Noah doesn't have so much as a single idea as to what is going on around him, why his name is being thrown around so half hazard…

"Okay," She finally answers, only after an elongated pause in between her words and without offering Noah so much as the simplest of explanations, "Tell them that we'll be there in two hours."

* * *

><p><strong>Anon<strong>** – Oh wow, thank you so much! I'm glad you like their little family because I love writing them as a family… I've been craving football season lately so I'm channeling that through Noah haha. He's got a pretty big storyline coming up concentrating around football and college, probably within the next few chapters, but Finn and Rachel's relationship is also going to take a turn next chapter that might sit well with you but won't with Noah :) Sorry for the delay in this update, I hope you enjoyed.**

**ReaderForLife**** – As always, thank you tons and tons!**

**Gleessam**** – I'm glad you enjoy them! I was debating it, still am, especially now that a few more characters are gonna start getting more involved, specifically Santana, Quinn and a little bit of Finn… I'm still kind of torn but we'll see soon. Thank you so much for the review!**

**Ballerina03**** – Haha I'm glad you like reading Noah chapters as much as I like writing them… Sorry about the lack of Rachel/Puck love but it's all strategic! Things are gonna start getting worse before they get better and Noah has a natural tendency to retreat from the people he cares the most about. (It won't last though I promise). I love your long reviews! I look forward to them, and I also love replying to them so we're working together on this one haha. Chapters usually take about two or three days to write but I'm really OCD about editing so that usually takes another day or so… This is my first time writing in about a week and a half, I had a huge test last Thursday and my brain kind of crapped out on me after that for a while, but I'm back now, and the cast is off so I'm free! Sorry to keep you up all night reading haha I hate it when I do that. Thanks for reviewing, I love them all!**

**Baygirl123**** – Thank you again! Quinn will start coming into play in about two chapters (which will be from Rachel's perspective).**


	29. Noah Corcoran November 2011 Part III

**Hey guys, so I tried to get this one up a bit faster to make up for my slacking these past couple of weeks so I hope you enjoy… **

**Just a quick forewarning, this chapter and the next is going to be mostly focused on Noah and Santana just because I'm trying to integrate her a bit more into this story because she is going to be playing a huge roll with Noah, and a bit with Rachel to a little bit down the line… Also, another quick warning, these next couple of chapters, particularly those with Noah are going to wander into a little bit of a higher rating… violence, language, the whole nine yards, so this is hereby my disclaimer for that. **

**Thank you, as always, for being so great. **

* * *

><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – November 2011  
><em>(Part III)<em>

* * *

><p>The moment that the room has finally begun to spin beneath his very feet ultimately, is the moment that he knows that he doesn't have much of a choice other than to leave.<p>

He is more than aware of the fact that he had promised a much earlier presence at Lima Memorial; the hospital that was currently containing his desperately ill sister and continuously distraught mother, but with precious little for him to celebrate these days, Noah had been easily roped into the notion of a party designed specifically to celebrate his heroic acts at the night's state semifinals…

His intentions had been to merely sick around for an hour, maybe two before heading towards the hospital for the night, but that one hour had quickly turned into four, one or two beers had quickly turned into ten and a strict no shot policy had fallen victim to an entire bottle of Jameson…

To say that he was drunk would be a vast understatement… He couldn't recall ever feeling this hopelessly incapacitated, at such an utter lack of control since he was a freshman, still boarded up inside of that godforsaken correctional high school…

Slowly losing the ability to remember why it was that he had left this lifestyle behind in the first place, Noah stumbles through the back doors and onto the deck of his friend's home, escaping the head splitting agony of the raging party inside.

He shouldn't be doing this; he shouldn't be doing this for the sake of his frantic mother who doesn't even know where he is right now, or his sick sister holed up in the hospital… He shouldn't be doing this right now; this is not the place that he needs to be.

The idea alone is enough to make him start drinking even harder.

He sits himself on a plastic lounge chair, much too close to its edge so that he damn near catapults himself off the back, the furniture piece pitching forward like a damn see-saw, spitting Noah back up and onto his feet the same way that he had just entered.

Noah stumbles briefly for but a brief handful of seconds before ultimately finding solace in a stable straight back chair, sitting himself securely down before taking a healthy sip from his can of cheap beer, grimacing at a taste that not even his healthy buzz can disguise.

Shivering harshly, he can't help but to become suddenly aware of the freezing chill in the air that nightfall has since blanketed across this November, Ohio night…

He's now committing himself to the multitasking course of consuming alcohol in order to both stay warm _and_ kill off a handful of selected memories.

Reaching into his pocket, Noah withdraws a pre-rolled blunt that his cornerback had passed along to him at the beginning of their party as a token of being the star of tonight's game… It is a trophy that his teammates valued much higher than the game ball already sitting at the bottom of Noah's bag…

At the time, Noah's will power in combination with his sober mentality had simply shoved the thin wrapper wordlessly into his pocket, not even bothering to tell the young junior that smoking was a habit that he had given up on years ago… But now, with both of these qualities distantly inhibited by an alcohol bath, the decision it seems is growing to be less and less under his control.

The paper hangs loosely from his lip, the wrapper's artificial grape flavor flooding his senses as he lifts the flame of the lighter against the tip just as the sound of the sliding back door catches the attention of his poised ears.

"I'm not really in the mood for conversation right now!" He shouts over his shoulder, choking slightly as he speaks through a natural inhale that sends a billow of smoke straight into his lungs, leaving a residual burning all the way down the length of his esophagus…

He is not entirely certain who it is that is approaching him, but he does know that he isn't in the mood to talk to much of anybody right now.

"Do you know how many things out here can kill you right now?"

Noah sighs heavily in an outwards response towards hearing Santana's voice… If he wasn't in the mood for so much as casual conversation, then he sure as hell wasn't in the mood to talk to Santana Lopez…

Rolling his eyes, Noah chooses to respond wordlessly, instead, throwing his head back, knocking down the remainder of his half-full beer in one swift gulp.

"I guess that's a yes…" She retorts to his silence, moving slowly forwards before seating herself besides her ex, settling perfectly against the same chair that had all but assaulted Noah mere moments before, "Listen, I'm not here to yell at you, okay?"

"What are you here to smack me across the face again?" He scoffs, but even in his haze, Noah knows that this wasn't exactly the right thing for him to say… But still, he doesn't correct himself, instead, stands his ground as Santana casually plucks the blunt from his mouth and commits to her own extended drag, the interaction exchanging wordlessly between both parties.

"I'm sorry, Noah…" Smoke billows from between her lips as she offers her apology only after a lengthy silence, "I'm sorry for pushing you away like I did… It wasn't fair of me."

"No… it was my fault…" Noah sighs, waving off Santana's exhibition of her uncanny ability to make him feel badly even while he was so unbelievably pissed at her… She was one of the very few people who actually possessed the capacity to do this to him, the only other two being his mother and his sister, "It's always my fault."

"Not this time…" Santana shakes her head, taking one last, quick inhale of the soothing smoke before passing the source back towards Noah who accepts it gratefully, "I acted out… I'm impulsive, you know that… I heard one side of the story and I reacted… I talked to Finn, okay, and he told me what happened. It was an accident, Noah, and Karofsky… well Karofsky is an asshole anyway… I don't blame you, things like this; they're bound to happen sooner or later."

"Jesus, do you see what all these freaking girls in my life turn me into…" His heart is pounding as he shakes his head, half sarcastic and half serious at the same time as his lips turn upwards into a smile around the thick joint resting against the corner of his mouth… His eyes are clouded by smoke but still, he can sense that Santana is returning his smile through the thick columns.

"It's all for you, you know." She informs him gently.

"I'm still sorry for outing you to the entire school…" Noah watches her carefully, analyzing her body movements as she shrugs her shoulders and attempts to detract her eyes despite the idea that no matter which direction by which she turns, Noah still manages to catch her gaze; a trait that he has inherited flawlessly from his mother.

"Who knows," Santana shrugs, her mouth turning upwards but her eyes still impossibly sad, "Maybe I deserve it."

"Nobody deserves that." Noah shakes his head.

"Just like nobody deserves being lied to." Santana counters, the two reciprocating mutually like nothing that they have ever done before, even when they were engaged in an active relationship with one another, ""Not like I did anyway."

Her words silence Noah instantly in a frozen haze, his face sliding downward as he processes them, soaks them in… Even if he was stone sober, Noah is certain that he wouldn't have the slightest clue as to what to say in response to Santana's confession… if he was even supposed to say anything at all.

"I've known… I've known I liked girls forever, Noah…" Santana sighs heavily, progressing in her explanation in response to Noah's thick, determined silence, "Ever since elementary school when all of the girls were fawning over the members of NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys and I couldn't manage to keep my eyes off of Brittney…"

Noah shoots her a curious look, his eyebrows arched in a confused wonderment towards the deeper meaning behind her words as he eyes her heavily.

"Spears, Noah…" Santana clarifies quickly, "Brittney Spears… Jesus, I should have known then and there… Anyway, Brittney… my Brittney, I mean, she moved to Lima in eighth grade, remember?"

"From Indiana…" Noah confirms his knowledge of this apparent life changing event for his ex-girlfriend.

"Indianapolis…" Santana nods her head in the quick confirmation, "I knew that I was in love with her the first time that I ever saw her… I just… I was still getting used to the idea at the time… Hell, I didn't know how to tell whether or not a girl… you know, would like another girl back then, _if_ there even was girls out there besides me that were like that, forget what all of the people would have to say about it…" Santana rambles incessantly, her hands flying animatedly in front of her in an effort to propel her explanation before finally, she falls flat, deflating like a balloon through a steep, exhausted exhale, "After that I sort of just got used to knowing how to cover my tracks, I got comfortable… It fell into habit pretty quickly after that."

"Because of me…" Noah speaks, his voice dropping accusingly in a tone that he immediately regrets.

"No offense, Noah, but you were kind of an easy target…" Santana laughs, clearly spotting the remorse behind his eyes, "You are the most popular kid in school, the one that all of the girls fawn over, the star of the football team… You, my friend, are the perfect cover for a closeted lesbian…"

Noah's face can't help but to brighten in a smile; he has been called a lot of things in his life but never before has he heard it put quite like that…

"I took a stupid home pregnancy test that day in September and it came out positive…" Santana's face swells seriously through a shrug so that the smile vanishes rapidly from Noah's eyes… He has been awaiting an explanation for nearly a week now, but suddenly, now that it was suddenly right here in front of him, he isn't so certain that he wants to hear it… especially under these conditions, "I was terrified, Noah, this isn't a problem that people like… that people like me are supposed to have. And then we started drifting apart and I promise you, the only thing that scared me more than having a kid was having a kid that I had to raise by myself."

"I never would have ditched you, San I –"

"I know that Noah…" Santana cuts the boy off, raising her hands in an expression of surrender before the boy fell apart completely all around her, "A part of me did, anyway… but then there was that little, tiny, miniscule part of me that couldn't help but to worry and, well… you know just how fast even the smallest part can take over…"

"I guess…" Noah shrugs, downplaying his answer exponentially… The truth is that he knows exactly how quickly that miniscule portion can take over, how it can surround you, overwhelm you with its fear and guilt and a shit ton of other emotions, all of which become rapidly undistinguishable in their magnitude.

"I made Brittney come with me to the doctor a few weeks after that and when he told me… when he told me that I wasn't pregnant, that the test must have just been a false positive, I freaked out…" Santana shrugs, but Noah can tell that the casual motion is made simply to cover up the tears as they begin to well deep inside of Santana's eyes, "We were starting to get close again Noah, we were starting to go back to the way that things used to be… I didn't want to ruin that again, I didn't want to lose you… I _couldn't_ lose you, don't you see that?"

"I guess that we're both starting to hope that maybe we can just forget what it is that we even fought about to begin with…" Noah nods in his understanding, "That's what I'm trying to do anyway."

Santana shakes her head slowly turning her tear riddled eyes from Noah so that the shine flashes across them… She inhales only to exhale shakily once more, Santana clearly not wanting to discuss this any longer.

I'm sorry about your sister, Noah," Santana tells him, desperate for an opportunity to change the subject, "I don't think that I ever actually told you that…"

"Thank you…" He breathes, never entirely certain how it was that he should respond to this kind of statement, especially when it catches him so off guard as this, "I'm just starting to get the impression that our private lives are just one big inside joke that I'll never fully understand… that nobody will ever fully explain to us."

"I don't think that _joke_ is exactly the right word for it…" Santana releases a laugh, but the motion is harsh, insincere.

"I'm gonna take care of you, Santana…" Noah stabilizes himself firmly against his chair, making his bold statement with the most sincere of looks behind his eyes that he can possibly muster under these conditions, "We'll take care of each other… I'm not gonna let anybody fuck with you just because of who you are…"

"Easy there, Hot Rod." Santana laughs quickly, except this time, it is a motion laced with sincerity as she shakes her head rapidly in a motion that makes even her own head spin…

"We can live like this, you know…" He risks the words, Santana silencing around him so that her laughs quickly dissipate into nothingness.

"But for how long?" Their eyes meet, lingering against one another for what seems like the first true time in either of their lives… Never before has he noticed how strikingly similar their color scheme was until this moment…

In a motion that sweeps across him seemingly out of nowhere, Noah is suddenly reminded why it was that he had ever fallen in love with Santana to begin with… He is overcome with the desire to reach out to her, to touch her, to stare into the eyes of one of the very few people that has ever managed to see what little good that there actually was inside of him…

In his momentary stupor, his drunken haze, Noah forgets himself, he loses his train of focus, all of the judgment and willpower that he possessed and he leans forward, moving closer and closer into Santana until finally, their lips meet, meshing harsh and sloppy against each other…

It feels like an eternity, but the actuality is that Santana pushes Noah away from her just as quickly as he had latched on in the first place.

"Noah, what the hell are you doing?" Santana shrieks, placing her palms flat against Noah's chest in an effort to provide him with an almighty shove that has him practically falling from his seat in his complete lack of any sort of a sense of balance at the moment…

It takes him a moment or two to recompose himself, his arms outstretched to their full wingspan in an effort to maintain his center of gravity as it scurries shakily across his body… He wobbles, but ultimately stands his ground, turning to eye Santana, his eyes slanted in regret as she recovers from the shock that his sudden movements have caused her.

She moves slowly, rising to her feet… Noah doesn't speak, he doesn't even breathe, he knows that Santana needs to be the first person to say something, it can't be him…

Standing directly before him, Santana straightens herself out quickly, wiping her hands, covered in ash and dirt along her dark skirt before she hovers above Noah's seated form, leaning forwards until her lips are lingering just above his ear.

"Don't lose yourself along the way, okay?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears her so that she might as well have been screaming, "Remember to take care of yourself sometimes too."

Santana leans forwards, allowing her lips to graze across Noah's hair, kissing the top of his head before lingering in a motion that he knows is meant to tell him not to worry about his previous flub… Of course, his face still can't help but to burn with embarrassment, heat glowing off of his cheeks as he ducks out from underneath her and shoots upwards and into the hair so that suddenly, he's much taller than her once more…

Santana is all but forced to pull away from him.

"Yeah," He responds positively, but his tone is all but convincing as he throws the roach of his kicked blunt down onto the wet ground beneath his feet, stamping it out for good measure before shoving his hands deep inside of his jeans pocket, dragging his feet along the stone deck towards the back door.

"Where are you going?" Santana calls after him; she's concerned, yet he still can't seem to bring himself to understand why, even after all that they have just discussed.

"I'm going back to the hospital," Noah shrugs as if to convince the both of them that this is a move that he should be making right now, "I told my mom that I'd meet up with her and Rachel right after the game… I'm already about six hours late."

"Okay, first of all, you're not driving anywhere," Santana reaches outwards, manages a strong grasp against Noah's wrist that stops him directly in his tracks and forces him to turn and face her, "Second, it's four o'clock in the morning and you are in no state to go inside of that hospital right now… Rachel doesn't need that, Noah and neither does your mom… think about it, okay?"

He does think about it, he _has_ been thinking about it; that seems to be the biggest problem at hand, how they had gotten here in the first place.

"Will you drive me then?" He sighs through a shrug of defeat, willing to compromise with her, stubborn despite the fact that even his subconscious knows that she is entirely right, "I need you to get me out of this place, San."

"Sure," She nods, indicating for him to follow her around the side of the house and towards the street with her hands, "Come on, I'll take you home.'

He has to walk three blocks down – stumble, actually being the more accurate word - just to get to Santana's car thanks to all of the vehicles parked up and down the street, a path of evidence placing a clear-cut arrow directly towards their underage party…

Santana's car is identifiable from a mile away seeing as how its bright yellow save for the replacement black hood that he had put on it, still there from when she had rear-ended somebod8y at a stop light nearly a year and a half ago now…

He is purposeful in making it a process of his entering the car, making absolute certain of his comfort as he situates his body in the seat, adjusts it, buckles his seatbelt… It is a ten second process that he easily elongates into ten minutes, and even when he is finally settled, he remains certain that it isn't nearly enough.

He wants more time, no, he _needs_ more time and no matter what he does, or how hard he tries, he seems to be committing to nothing but running short, coming up empty… Of course, Noah isn't entirely shocked by this; he is typical in his failures, or so he believes… but that it seems, is just about all that he is consistent with.

"What are you thinking about, Noah?" Santana breaks the heavy silence as it permeates between them, continuous in her generous delay of starting her car until he is ready, understanding that he can't go home.

The last thing that he needs right now is yet another reminder as to why it will be otherwise empty.

"I guess that I'm just trying to see the big picture is all…" His eyes are pale and determined as he stares fixatedly out the window, somehow still managing to catch Santana's reflection through the glass.

"Do you want some advice?" She offers, watching as he nods slowly, eyes still expertly trained upon the familiar scenery outside, "Stop trying," She laughs, but she is serious, a seemingly common feature of their conversations as of late, "It's far too big."

"What do you mean?" Noah eyes her, genuinely confused towards her words as he turns for the first time since he'd entered the car, and meets her eye to eye in her entirety.

"Your eyes can't ever open nearly wide enough."

* * *

><p>6 a.m. practices have never been particularly high on his priority list.<p>

Monday mornings are difficult enough as it was without having to wake up at 5:30, plus, the hangover that he is still nursing from Friday night, not to mention the extended headache that the verbal berating he'd received from his mother for his actions leading to said hangover aren't exactly helping.

But he is on the college radar now… Being at the top of the heap was a good excuse towards his slacking off all throughout high school, but now, he is back to being at the very bottom of the pile… Laziness has simply no longer become an option.

He is the only person in his house awake at this ungodly hour which of course, is not saying much… Rachel is still in the hospital, the same hospital that she is going to be seeing a lot of these days seeing as her scheduled return home for a few days' recovery has been postponed indefinitely following a particular brutal weekend in which the only person that had been throwing up more than she was, was Noah, who has since vowed never to drink whisky ever again…

Shelby was completely out of the picture so long as Rachel was; no, as long as Rachel was in the hospital, his mother would be hard pressed to leave her side, that much was for damn certain.

His aunt remains fast asleep in the guest bedroom besides the living room… Noah doesn't even bother to wake her up; it would be a worthless cause save for a fraction of personal pleasure in regards to not having to be the only asshole that has to be wide awake right now…

The burnt toast that pops black and smoldering from the toaster tells him that maybe he could at least get her to make him something edible to eat, giving his apparent inability to do so himself…

He considers the option for a relatively significant portion of time, drowning what little free time he does have in wasteful energy… Noah nibbles at his burnt breakfast just long enough to reconsider the idea, ultimately deciding to leave his lone remaining family member in peace before turning away from the potential commotion, straight out the front door…

He's makes a habit of moving slowly from the very beginning…

It's 6:00 in the morning and nobody is exactly at their peak performance, but he is the last one out of the locker room by a long shot, and by the time he does finally trek towards the fifty yard line in an effort to help his fellow co-captains lay down the practice's game plan, his teammates are already waiting for him, none looking all too pleased with his tardiness.

The Cheerios are practicing on the track to his immediate right, their uniform, rhythmic chanting doing absolutely nothing for his ever-increasing headache… He isn't so sure how much longer that he will actually be able to tolerate this day and it has barely even started yet.

"You're late, Corcoran…" His coach says it before anybody else can, which in all fairness, is lucky considering that his teammates wording of the situation probably wouldn't have been nearly as kind.

"I know I'm sorry Coach Tanaka, I…"

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses," He is cut off abruptly by his coach; a nervous wreck even in a normal game situation, a looming trip to the State Finals is doing absolutely nothing for Ken Tanaka's already shot nerves, "You owe me a mile run after today's practice."

"Yes, Coach…" Noah sighs, hiding his prominent eye roll from underneath his helmet as he straps it onto his head and ducks through the crowd towards the center of his team.

"Glad you stopped jerking off in the locker room long enough to actually join us, Corcoran…"

"Shut up, Karofsky…" Noah snaps; he's tense as it is, add the idea that his previous altercation with the boy from just last Friday is still fresh inside of his mind and Noah finds himself growing dangerously heated already.

"Alright guys, just relax… We have a lot to do today." Finn steps in between the two sworn enemies, quickly neutralizing their verbal exchange before it could escalate into something more, as all knew it had a tendency to do, "We're gonna split up to start up with. I want the defensive line down by the end zone, offense, stay with me and Puck"

There's a soft muttering; a growling of crude words under ones breath, a darting glare or two, but the fight dissipates quickly as David Karofsky and his blood red practice jersey retreat towards the rest of his defensive line while Noah, adorning white, remains with his offense.

But still, a terrible feeling brews deep inside the very pit of Noah's gut, just as it so often does once David Karofsky declares his determined warpath against him… an occurrence that seemed to be growing in frequency as of late…

Noah eyes the boy carefully, eyes drilled straight into the back of his head as he walks slowly down the sideline and towards the end zone.

He is being stupid, Noah attempts to convince himself; he is being a damn fool for worrying himself over something as stupid as a kid that has been pushing his classmates around since elementary school… But then again, it seems as if he has been being stupid about a lot of things these days, he knows.

With a heavy sigh, Noah finally turns away from David and back towards his responsibilities as team captain… Finn is standing ten yards in front of him, eyeing him with a curious concern, silently asking for a reason behind Noah's unusual delay… With a shake of his head indicative of the idea that he doesn't want to talk about it, Noah takes one tentative step forwards, before finally he hears it..

"Bet you like being at the bottom of that pyramid, huh Santana?"

The accusation catches within the wind, filters straight through Noah's perked ears so that his heart immediately begins to pound from inside of his chest, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"No wonder you've been a cheerleader for so long, you get to feel up chicks every day."

David Karofsky releases a crude, guttural laugh towards his own joke just as Noah's body snaps back around, his pupils constricting into pinpoints as his vision narrows inwards upon Karofsky, who is walking slowly passed Santana, her face glowing red, trembling as she holds Brittney at the bottom of a cheerleading pyramid.

It hurts him to see the young Latina, typically so strong reduced to nothing by mere words… He can only imagine what it must feel like for her.

Noah's eyes narrow dangerously inwards, his body frozen but for a brief moment as if to fuel the tirade that he is methodically planning against David Karofsky… True to the word that he had committed to Santana late on Friday night – his conversation being one of the few things that he actually remembers from that evening – Noah storms forwards, ripping the helmet off of his head and throwing it down against the turf as his feet begin to move faster and faster with every step that he takes.

Karofsky senses his threatening presence before he so much as has the time to say a single word. He catches Noah barreling towards him through his peripherals, turns just in time to duck beneath a punch that contains a force strong enough to break his jaw easily.

"When are you gonna learn how to shut your fucking mouth, Karofsky?" Noah grabs the boy by the jersey, rendering his arms immobile in a strategic force of protection, pulling him inwards and towards him until they're standing chest to chest.

"I'll shut my mouth when you stop making it so easy for me to open it." Karofsky spits, using his full body weight to shove Noah aside so that the boy stumbles backwards only briefly before regaining his ground once more, "And as long as you are known around here as the fag that almost knocked up the dyke, I won't shut my mouth… That shit is way too golden."

Karofsky grows quickly aggressive, offering Noah a series of small shoves against his shoulder pads, throwing him around in an effort to force Noah to make the first move, to force Noah to throw the first punch that truly hits home…

They begin to move further and further up the sidelines just as a small crowd begins to formulate in a tight circle around them; the football players, water boys, even the Cheerios, save of course, for Santana, who Noah's eyes remain constantly trained upon as she lingers in the background, arms crossed silently in front of her chest, eyes glistening with tears…

There are a million people all around him, but Santana is the only face that he can actually see… He had asked, no, he had _begged_ her for some perspective mere nights ago… Well, here it was.

He can hear the frantic calls of the coaching staff around him through what is rapidly becoming an out-of-body experience… Ken Tanaka, Russell Haggerty, their offensive coordinator, even Sue Sylvester is attempting to push through the crowd in an effort to get into the middle of these two boys, notorious in their ability to turn the simplest of scuffles into a war zone.

"What's the matter Corcoran, not in the mood to fight back today?" Noah closes his eyes through yet another strong push as Karofsky sends him careening into a group of his teammates, how promptly give him a supporting shove forwards…

He is trying; Noah is praying to whoever will listen, that the world will know that he's trying… He's trying to remember the encouraging words, adhere to the advice, follow through on the guidelines that so many people have offered him in regards to these kinds of interactions…

"_Noah, you need to realize that not all people understand about the things that are happening to our family…"_ His mother's voice rings trite and true through his head as if she were standing directly over his shoulder, whispering to him inside of his hear as if it hadn't been nearly a decade since she'd last spoken these exact words, _"It scares people sometimes… and sometimes, when people are scared or when they're angry they say and they do things that they don't really mean." _

His face scrunches with frustration towards his conflicting viewpoints on the matter… He had been six years old at the time his mother had given him that speech, surely its statute of limitations had run out… But then again, this was his mother that they were talking about here….

The words are steamrolling across his brain, pounding into every pore and orifice, streaming inwards directly alongside his thumping heart… But he is growing ever-increasingly certain that even Buddah himself would have been able to block out this ever-persistent action…

He is letting himself be shoved around by David Karofsky, and Noah has a reputation about this school that does not pin him as one who will easily be willing to back away from an obvious fight.

"Cut the bullshit, Karofsky…" Noah makes an attempt to duck from beneath the constant heckling, slapping Karofsky's hands away from him, "We have a practice to finish."

"Yeah, figures that you would be pussying out…" Karofsky sneers, making it suddenly obvious just how badly he is looking for Noah to react violently… probably for some sort of twisted redemption regarding last Friday's failed altercation, "Seeing as you hang out with nothing but dykes and that freak show of a sister that you have all day long."

Noah freezes suddenly; it appears that David Karofsky has finally – after a decade of persistent feuding – found the fuel that he truly needs to ignite that fire beneath Noah and allow it to burn… Mention of Santana is enough as it is to make Noah's blood positively boil over, Karofsky knows this, but the abrupt, unexpected addition of his sister's name into the equation is enough to put Noah over the edge in his entirety.

"Don't you dare…" Noah growls, his voice low, threatening… It makes his intentions very clear, provides the slightly older boy standing before him with an appropriate warning to stop while he still could, to avoid taking this any further, across into hazardous territory. "Watch where you're headed Karofsky, I swear to God you better leave my fucking sister out of this."

"Or what?" Karofsky is adamant in his refusal to back down and Noah is suddenly finding it ever-increasingly difficult for him to simply just ignore it, "You know, Corcoran, rumors get around this school pretty quickly, especially, well, you know, rumors about why it is that Rachel dropped out of school…"

"She didn't…"

"You know what I heard through the grapevine?" Karofsky speaks through Noah's words, rendering the boy completely silent… As much as he doesn't want to hear a single thing that Karofsky had heard through any rumor mill, there is a slightly stronger urge that does, simply to know what it is that people are saying across the halls of William McKinley High School about Puck Corcoran's little sister…

Karofsky lingers in his silence, studying his surroundings carefully as he toys briefly with Noah before finally leaning inwards, closer and closer towards the boy, like a predator preparing to bite the neck of its prey…

He is half expecting the pain of sharp teeth sinking into his jugular when a sharp breath of air transmits Karofsky's harsh whisper directly into his ear…

"I hear that she's dying."

Noah's heart begins to pound immediately against his ribcage, performing an impressive cadence that he wouldn't be surprised if Karofsky felt through the thin gap between their two bodies…

Sweat is breaking out along his forehead, tiny droplets that bead and sting as they drip into his wide eyes, his limbs literally begin to shake… And his reaction does not go unnoticed by David Karofsky either, as made evident by the boy's face as it turns upwards into a sick, sadistic smile.

"Back off Karofsky…" Finn warns, barricading his way through the crowd, "You have absolutely no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Yeah, well I know enough… And do you wanna know how I know all this?" Karofsky is simply egging Noah on at this point, he knows it, Noah knows it, hell, the entire crowd must know it, "My dad words in records over at Lima Memorial, and he told me that this was all your faggot of a father's fault… According to him, your dad died when you guys were just kids… he had an affair with a man and caught AIDS because of it. And now… he passed it along to Rachel."

There isn't so much as a second's hesitation before Noah commits to the action that he has been threatening since he'd walked onto the practice field this morning… He pounces so quickly that absolutely none of them have the time to so much as react, Karofsky included, who is so overwhelmed by the sudden presence of a body on top of his own that he stumbles over his own two feet, the entirety of Noah's body weight bearing down on top of him as he wails his fists down upon the boy, not caring where he hit as long as he hit something, and caused pain.

And for Noah, the most terrifying part is that not a single person ever tries to stop him.

The young football star's mind is blank, dead in its emptiness… He thinks of absolutely nothing as his fists crash down upon Karofsky's head and padded chest… He isn't aware of his surroundings, he isn't aware of the sharp pain in his knuckles, or the blood that runs slick through the cracks between his fingers, no longer distinguishable between being his own or Karofsky's.

He doesn't even care about the trouble that this will be bound to cause him, he doesn't even care if he positively _kills_ Karofsky right here and now… hell, he almost hopes it does…

It doesn't seem to matter; besides, trouble has been tracking Noah Corcoran down ever since the day that the boy had been born… Of course this timer… well this time was remarkably different.

This time, nobody pulls Noah off until David has stopped moving in his entirety.

* * *

><p><strong>Cameo45<strong>** – Thank you! Mostly I'm just glad that that part is over with haha. Also, congratulations on graduation, that's absolutely amazing!**

**Miriami**** – I'm so glad it's not getting dull for you! Things will be a bit calmer for me these next few weeks so updates will definitely come quicker. I feel bad for Noah too, but things have got to get worse before they get better so a resolution isn't exactly around the corner but in the distant future maybe… There will be a scene of Shelby telling Rachel about Hiram a few chapters down the line but I've got one more Noah chapter coming up and then Rachel. Thank you so much for your amazingly kind words, I can't even tell you how much they mean. **

**Amandaes417**** – Sorry to keep you waiting for so long! I hope it was worth it. **

**Ballerina03**** – No need to apologize after how long I took to put the thing up haha, and don't worry I understand, I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off these past couple of weeks… I had no idea you were Canadian, I've never been, don't really get out of New York all that much but it is definitely on my list of places to visit. We can all use some amazing news every once and a while, I'm glad some came your way but I'll try not to heckle you to make your secret harder to keep :) I'm a rugby player plus a natural born klutz so injuries just sort of come with the territory I am glad it's healing up quickly though… My guilty pleasure is little Noah and little Rachel, there will be a lot more down the line and a bit of insight as to how the two of them grew so close. Good luck on your exams, I'm sure you'll be fine. I can't describe how much your reviews mean so thank you times a million!**

**Anon**** – Thank you! Sad little Noah always breaks my heart but he's so great to write that I can't help but to come back to it… Noah and Rachel are going to hit a bit of a bump in the road (a bit of that which will have to do with a development between Finn and Rachel) but the best part about a fight is the resolution, right? Thank you beyond thank you for the review!**


	30. Noah Corcoran November 2011 Part IV

**Believe it or not I actually don't have much to say before this chapter! But it was tough for me to write just because it throws a few more hurdles into the mix… I hope you don't hate me by the time you're done reading it! **

**As always, thank you all for being amazing, it's appreciated beyond words. Rachel is coming up next for all those who have been waiting so patiently!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – November 2011  
><em>(Part IV)<em>

* * *

><p>Before this morning, Noah Corcoran could have safely said that he has never before blacked out, that he has never found himself entirely detached from the concept of reality without the otherwise presence of an alcohol-induced haze.<p>

In this strange new territory, this bizarre new world, he finds his memory blotchy, unfocused as he is dragged from the football field in a flash of haziness, by the collar of his jersey, thrown through the main hallway of his high school in a perceived manner of only seconds.

Noah's mind is swirling in a clouded array of adjusting focus. It is just rounding on that time of morning in which a countless array of students have begun flooding into the school, shuffling lazily, exhausted and still half asleep as they drag themselves towards their lockers… They perk slightly as their eyes find a site that they are not nearly met with every morning; the star football player being all but dragged by the back of the neck straight through the school…

They back away slowly, parting like the damn Red Sea as Noah and Ken Tanaka make their way down the center of the hallway… Noah can't help but to eye them… he knows that Ken Tanaka is a lot of things, but an intimidating man is not one of them. But this morning, the coach adorns a look that can kill so that even the most inexperienced amongst them can distinguish the severity amidst the mysterious situation.

Noah is certain that the tension can be felt radiating throughout the length of the entire damn school.

Flashbacks of his outburst begin rapidly manifesting through the pain within his bloodied and bruised knuckles. The bones sting, they ache, they throb like nothing that he has ever quite experienced before as he hangs his still-clenched fists down at his side and marches along the hall, turning his head downwards and towards the ground instinctively, strategically tuning out the wandering eyes and curious whispers pointed towards his general direction.

A miniscule part of him wonders what it is that they are saying, but his conscience quickly reminds him that he is better off in the dark… Rumors are what has gotten him into this mess to begin with, he wasn't about to let them define his current predicament even more.

But still, unwillingly, he finds himself growing suspicious of every single person that risks a glance towards his direction, pinpointing them as an immediate source for exaggerated storytelling and brewing controversy…

And as much as he doesn't _want_ to remember a single damn thing that Karofsky had told him earlier that morning, the staring faces of his fellow pupils is starting to make it difficult.

He wonders if they already know that he had beaten David Karofsky to a bloody pulp at the center of their very football field earlier that morning. He wonders if they know that he'd spent the last several months believing that Santana was preparing to have his child. He wonders how many of the actual facts about Rachel's sudden absence they know as compared to the vicious rumors that had had him losing his temper in a crude act of violence…

He forces himself to stop wondering relatively quickly… He has already spent too much of his time lately forcing upon himself, answers to the questions that he never should have asked in the first place.

Noah is thrown harshly and abruptly into Ken Tanaka's office… It takes him a moment to grapple with his bearings, to remember where he was in the first place despite the fact that he had been inside of this office more than a million times before…

With almighty shove directed against the center of his upper back, Noah stumbles slightly into the office's interior before regaining his ground about halfway between the door and Tanaka's cluttered desk.

"Do not move from this spot." His voice is low, yet intimidating; it is a tone that Noah is all too familiar with, a tone that he knows full well not to cross. "I have to go deal with the mess that you just created and when I get back Corcoran, if you have moved so much as an inch in any direction, I swear to God you will be inside of the ambulance right next to Karofsky."

"Yes sir." Noah mutters, his words pointed downwards towards his own feet, so far that his chin is practically touching his chest. He refuses to look Ken Tanaka in the eyes… he is certain that he will struggle looking so much of anybody in the eyes for a long time to come.

Noah watches his coach's feet as the man turns in an abrupt about face before storming from his office, slamming the door so hard behind him that the cinderblock walls begin to shake on their very foundations…

He considers defying his coach's adamant orders the very second that the man is out of view… He wants to run, disappear, follow his gut as it screams at him that every chance that he has to leave is a chance that he needs to be taking…

With regret running rampant through his system, he views this as nothing but an opportunity.

Noah makes it as far as the door… His hand wrapped about the doorknob, he feels it give way to the force before he pauses, stopping and retreating as he considers the option of taking responsibility for his actions for what seems to be the first time in the entirety of his life.

Noah backs away slowly from the door, his feet roll stepping silently as he retreats towards the mark that Ken Tanaka had set for his standard of stillness and bypasses it without so much as pausing…

He finds himself moving blindly, eyes reduced to constricted pinpoints as he stares adamantly at the door, absentmindedly continuing to back pedal until his body bumps against the corner of the desk behind him, a sharp pain radiating throughout his hip as the tinkering of crashing metal against tile floor filters across his ears…

His eyes shoot downward towards the Coach's Award that Ken Tanaka had received following last year's State Championship victory, now reduced to a collection of sharp, fragmented pieces; shattered at his feet.

Noah is consciously aware of the idea that his initial reaction to the damage should be remorse, at the very least fear that now, Coach Tanaka will have evidence that Noah has defiled his orders of not moving while simultaneously breaking his prized trophy to boot…

But it isn't; he doesn't feel it…

He doesn't feel much of anything.

Noah suddenly finds himself feeling absolutely nothing but a sense that this is not enough, that enough is never quite enough…

With the idea of destruction rapidly becoming the common theme of his day, Noah finds himself immersed with the idea that breaking Karofsky's face, on top of Ken Tanaka's trophy is in no way even close to being enough… He needs more, he _craves_ more…

Testing the waters, Noah plucks a cup stuffed to capacity with unsharpened pencils off of Ken Tanaka's desk… He shifts the object from hand to hand, testing its weight, balancing it between his palms as he studies its every detail for but a few brief seconds before, with an almighty roar of relief, he flexes his arm and hurls the thing against the wall as hard as he possibly can, the resulting crash, followed by a continuous scatter of pencils against the ground flooding his body with a sense of relief.

He embraces the positive reinforcement, the high that his actions have provided him with and craving further satisfaction, he finds himself immediately addicted, unable to stop as he reaches for anything that he can get his hands on, anything that he can deem breakable.

Noah quickly sends the contents of the desk sprawling against the floor, double fisting its contents as he tosses them against the wall… The sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood fill his ears like music as yells and screams in his frustrations, throwing a genuine tantrum that actually has him feeling better, feeling real, feeling _human_ for the first time in months.

Realization has finally begun to slap him across his face, but he cannot say that he is particularly enjoying it, the reminder that he is no longer the popular jock, the king of the school, the cream of the crop… Instead now, he is just that guy who had turned his girlfriend gay, the kid whose sister is sick, the low life that tried to beat his teammate to death…

People will begin to see him differently now, hell, they already have… They will stare at him, they will antagonize him, they will never be afraid of him ever again… not with all of his vulnerabilities shining so clearly across his very skin.

He doesn't know how to deal with this, this foreign feeling, this entirely new life… He doesn't know how to deal with this at all…

Frustration seeps from the very core of his mouth, formulating into a scream that he is certain must be extending across the entirety of the school… The only thing that Noah believes is preventing people from barging inside to investigate the guttural sounds is the fear that Tanaka has taken to inhabiting a wild animal inside of his office.

His football uniform is beginning to interfere with his frantic motions, the full padding that he has yet to be given an opportunity to remove, restricting his ability to properly destroy the office…

Blood stains across his white practice jersey; but the tiniest of splatters, yet just enough to leave him sickeningly satisfied…

The only emotion currently manifesting inside of his mind that is stronger than this satisfaction is the fear of just that.

Ripping his shoulder pads from over his head, Noah uses both hands to throw them clear across the room, the sound of the hard plastic hitting the cinderblock wall corresponding directly with the sound of the football coach's office door finally re-opening.

He isn't entirely certain how long his assault has lasted, how long he had been left to his own devices as he thoroughly destroyed Ken Tanaka's office, but he is certain that the space between his arrival and subsequent destruction must have been rather significant, because as he finally brings himself to pause long enough to assess the damage that he has created, he comes to the understanding that the small room surrounding him is currently in shambles.

Noah is expecting a lot of his coach, as he stands stone still, lingering inside of the doorway as his initial intentions of fetching Noah are halted in his attempts to assess the significant damage… He is expecting to be yelled at, screamed at, thoroughly beaten for being so damn stupid, carted straight off to jail…

He finds himself almost disappointed when none of this happens, when instead the exact opposite of all of his initial expectations manifests itself in Ken Tanaka's single, wordless beckoning for Noah to follow him…

He knows that his coach must have seen the mess; he'd watched as the man's eyes darted briefly across room so that there was no chance in hell that he possibly could have missed it… Hell, Ken Tanaka could have been blind and there would be no way in hell that he could have possibly missed this…

He just wishes that whatever it is that he is expecting would be the thing that actually happened to him for once.

His trip towards Principal Figgins' office is no way near as harrowing as his trip to Tanaka's had been… The hallways are empty now, the class bell having long since rung… Noah moves a bit freer this time as well, his constricting football equipment having since been removed , alongside Coach Tanaka's willingness to allow him to keep his distance this time around, Noah walking steadily behind him the entire way.

Noah follows the older man around the corner and into the main office… There is a hushed sense of a frenzy about the room, Noah very much so aware of the excess work that his actions have induced upon them as they all pause to look up at him the second that he walks through the doorway…

Trying desperately to avoid their judgmental eyes, Noah turns away, gaze focused attentively at his feet… He is almost grateful when he is not granted time to linger, Ken Tanaka grabbing him by the upper arm, leading him inside of Principal Figgins' office before he all but throws the boy unceremoniously into an awaiting chair…

Noah knows that he is in trouble the second that he risks a collective glance about the room… Principal Figgins is sitting behind his desk, his normally blissful and clueless demeanor replaced with an expression of severity… To his immediate right, sits Emma Pillsbury, the school counselor, and to his left, Will Schuester… Ken Tanaka stands directly behind him arms crossed staring stonily ahead…

This is bad… this is very bad.

He is just convincing himself that things cannot get any worse than it already is when the familiar clicking of heels against tile floor echoes closer and closer towards him, radiating menacingly across his ear drums, each and every step forward informing him that this can indeed get worse…

It can get much worse.

His mother doesn't even look at him as she shuffles into the room with a confidence that Noah can tell in an instant is anything but real… Instead, her flustered, exhausted eyes go straight to Principal Figgins, glaring in a desperate confusion, begging for good news, but expecting the worst…

Acknowledging the truth, Noah's hands tighten in anticipation against the arm rests of his chair…

"Mrs. Corcoran, thank you for coming on such short notice." Principal Figgins stands up from behind his desk, extending his hand for Shelby to shake, and although her arm twitches with the motion to reciprocate, she can't seem to commit her muscles to the actual motion… Figgins immediately retreats his offer in a motion of understanding, "I know that you are a very busy woman, but it seems as if earlier this morning, your son had an altercation at his football practice with a fellow teammate… a _violent_ altercation."

"With all due respect Principal Figgins, I'm in a little bit of a rush…" Shelby urges his hastiness, her trembling voice leaving her push for answers appearing not rude, but desperate, "I have a sick daughter in the hospital that I need to get back to…" She eyes Noah accusingly as she speaks as if Noah doesn't already know this, as if he could ever possibly forget…

"Of course, Mrs. Corcoran…" Principal Figgins shuffles nervously, just as everybody else does when the reminder of their family's predicament is forced directly upon them… They'd used to use these graceless social norms as a means of a game, poking fun at others' discomfort, attempt to make them as uncomfortable as humanly possible, but this was anything but a playful situation; their faces remain stone. "Early this morning, there was a verbal confrontation between Noah and David Karofsky, a confrontation that your son quickly made physical."

"Physical?" Shelby cocks her eyes as she glances between the multitude of people lined about the room, trying to decide who it is that she should look at next, "How physical?"

"Mr. Karofsky was brought to Lima Memorial's emergency room…" Noah risks a glance towards his mother; he can't tell if she wants to cry, or reach around and hit him… probably both. "He's expected to be okay, but-"

"Will there be any legal action taken against him?" Shelby works her experience towards the notion of her son being in trouble, shuffling through details seamlessly.

"That decision will be up to the Karofsky's," Figgins nods his head in his appreciation of Shelby's care to detail as she makes good on her desire to move both quickly and expertly. "The police are investigating the matter, Mrs. Corcoran but as of right now, there seems to be confusion as to actually began the _physical_ aspect of this fight."

"So you're saying that my son may simply have been defending himself?" Shelby cocks her eyebrows… If she hadn't been blessed with the talent that her incredible voice had granted her, she would have been a hell of a lawyer, Noah has always been certain of this much… He is starting to understand where it is that his aunt had gotten it from. "I'm saying that there appears to be confusion towards the circumstances leading up to this fight… circumstances that appear to be muddled between the friends of your son's and those of Mr. Karofsky's."

"Noah will be suspended as well as David Karofsky then, I'm assuming…" Shelby puts her experience with these types of situations on full display… She moves through the school's policies faster than Figgins himself.

"Mrs. Corcoran, we have a very strict zero tolerance policy for violence here at William McKinley. We take matters like these very seriously." Shelby scoffs audibly in her frustration; Noah hears it, and he is more than certain that Figgins has as well. "Now, while the details of this altercation still need to be worked out, as of right now your son is up for expulsion due to the extent of Mr. Karofsky's injuries as well as the former history of violence that he has here at this school."

"His former history?" Shelby broadens instinctively, her face stiffening… She has taken offense to Figgins' comment and Noah is certain that he would have too had the fear of his mother not shadowed it, "What is that supposed to mean, his former history?"

"Mrs. Corcoran, we both know that your son has an extended record of delinquencies here at this school."

"Delinquencies that he has long since paid his penalties for," Shelby reminds him, her face reddening with anger as she reaches her peak boiling point… There is only so much after all that a human being can handle… even a human being as strong as his mother is.

"I can't be expelled!" Noah speaks without particularly meaning to, the words slipping involuntarily from the back of his throat as he rises to his feet, ignoring his mother's heated glares as she warns him silently with her eyes to sit down and shut up before he can get himself even deeper into this mess than what he already is. "Please Principal Figgins, I'm starting to get scholarship offers… colleges _want_ me now, this is my future that's at risk here. Please, I will do anything… I can't be expelled from this school, not now…"

"I think that I may have a solution…" Emma Pillsbury coughs slightly from her corner chair, vying in her bid for attention, her voice gentle and high-pitched as compared to the gruff sounds of barely contained arguing as emitted by the neighbors surrounding her, "Perhaps such extreme actions won't be necessary… Now I'm certain that both boys are well aware of the severity of their actions… An opportunity to discuss alternatives might be helpful rather than to simply jump straight into a worst possible scenario… Now I have already discussed with Noah, the possibility of having sessions with him once or twice a week, but perhaps we can increase the frequency of our meetings and establish the same policy with David…"

"What is this, like anger management?" The words slip from Noah's mouth just as Shelby twists at the juncture of her hips, her and Noah's eyes locking for the first time since Shelby had entered into Principal Figgins' office in the first place… Her face is engraved with an enraged accusation as her frustration and grief manifests at its peak in the amazement towards the idea that Ms. Pillsbury had reached out to her son and he had failed to mention it to her.

"It's a start…" Figgins breaths airily, not sounding entirely convinced as his hands fold together, fingers meshing in his consideration of the option, "Of course, as par to our school's policy, Noah's future here at William McKinley High School will have to be put in front of the school board… Until then however, I agree that perhaps meeting with Ms. Pillsbury is in his best interest."

"He'll go." Shelby makes the immediate decision for her son, "Everyday. He will be inside of your office every day during lunch, Ms. Pillsbury."

Noah can only sigh; an exaggerated motion that extends across a barely suppressed eye roll that he knows will do nothing to plead his desperate case… His mother shoots him a discrete glare, eyeing him seriously alongside the silent warning as if she can read his sarcastic motions from straight through his very skin…

It doesn't take him very long to realize that she probably can.

"So it's settled, Noah, you will see Ms. Pillsbury every day during lunch for the remainder of your time here at William McKinley." Mr. Figgins extends the terms of the agreement towards Noah, but designed to be helpful, the young boy takes it with a patronizing tone, hears Principal Figgins speaking with him as if he is a child…

Noah's eyes narrow threateningly, but he begs himself to contain his motions… He doesn't need any more trouble than the insurmountable amount that he is already in…

Noah detracts his gaze, his head swerving away from the scene before him as if to prevent them all from catching his involuntary reaction to the news… His eyes subconsciously focus inwards and towards the slightly ajar door leading outwards and back towards the main entrance… beckoning for his freedom.

He can make it; he knows that he can make it with ease, even with his mother flanking him on the left, and Ken Tanaka on the right, already up and on their feet… As long as he manages to successfully catch them off guard, Noah knows that he can make it.

The boy isn't the highest ranked running back in the country for no reason.

"Yeah," Noah states simply, darting upwards and reaching towards the door before anybody can so much as process his movements, "I get it."

Noah ignores their protesting shouts, he ignores the beckoning of his name, yelling at him to stop, to come back, to quit making this worse for himself while he still can… He isn't sure why they would ever think that he would listen, why he _should_ listen…

Why, after all, wouldn't he run when he would otherwise stay and linger against the very last thing that he needs right now – yet another person warning him of his dwindling hopes of a future that he could no longer see, another person forcing him to dig even deeper into the broken past that he was trying so desperately to put behind him in his entirety.

* * *

><p><em>The sound of his own screams hurts even his own ears.<em>

_In a brief wonderment towards just how far his voice is capable of carrying, he wonders if it's possible that the aliens can hear him all the way from the very moon…_

_ He doesn't bother to move any closer towards the car… Noah catches a brief glimpse of the blood stained driver's side window of his father's still Audi and this seems to be more than enough._

_ By the time Noah emerges from the garage, he's frantic, flailing so wildly that he almost forgets how to run at all so that he's suddenly nervous about falling flat on his very face. _

_ Mrs. Hudson is still parked outside of his house and Noah is grateful, because if she had left, he is not entirely certain what it is that he would have done… Probably call 911 like his mother told him to only do if there was an emergency… like if the house caught on fire or something happened to Rachel or something._

_ But for now, he is willing to leave this predicament up to the adults because he is not prepared to face it; he is not prepared in any sense of the word._

_ "Noah honey, what is it?" Carole is climbing out of her car before Noah has so much as had the opportunity to reach it, and as much as he may want his mother right now, Noah understands that she is the second best option and the only one that he has at the moment… Noah latches onto her tightly, clutching at her dress just above the hip so tightly that he's afraid he'll never be able to let go again, "What's wrong?"_

_ "Noah, what happened?" Carole is torn between holding the boy closer and pulling him away in an effort to give him an opportunity to explain his frantic behavior._

"_Puck…" Finn is eyeing his friend with wide, confused eyes as he hesitantly climbs out of the backseat of his mother's car, clutching onto the ajar sheathe of metal for emotional support._

_ "Finn, get back in the car honey…" Carole directs her son back into hiding, but the boy is rendered frozen by a slew of conflicting emotions._

_ "What's wrong with Puck, momma?" Finn all but ignores his mother's orders in the blatant concern of his best friend, looking for the answers that he knows simply obeying his mother's orders will not give him._

_ "Finn, just get back in the car, please!" Carole is pleading; her voice is wracked with the characteristic tone that even at their young age, both Noah and Finn manage to recognize, "And bring Noah with you…"_

_ Carole practically has to pry the small boy's tightly wrapped fingers from about her body, giving him a slight jolt towards the direction of the car… He's too overwhelmed to so much as object, too terrified to resist the motion so that he's practically being carried into the backseat of Carole's Explorer, the door slamming firmly shut behind him and the familiar clicking informing him that Carole had locked both him and Finn inside of the car._

_Although whether to keep them from getting out, or to keep the unknown threat from getting in, Noah is not certain. _

_The young boy wastes absolutely no time before he pounces towards the car window facing his house… He watches as Carole walks up the length of the driveway at a cautionary snail's pace, and although she doesn't know exactly what it is that she is about to find hidden inside of that garage, Noah does… _

_ He holds his breath for her._

_ "What happened in there, Puck?" Finn is being persistent, poking incessantly at Noah's shoulder in a series of hard, sharp jabs that scream for attention and although they leave a lingering pain radiating up the length of his arm behind, Noah ignores it… Instead, he simply presses his face further and further against the glass window, watching as Carole finally makes her way inside of the garage…_

_Noah can hear her scream all the way from inside of the car._

* * *

><p>Noah doesn't even realize that he is driving towards the hospital until his car is parked directly outside of it.<p>

Of course, the more that he thinks about it, the more he has to thank his subconscious for committing to the motion… His sister possesses the uncanny ability to always make him feel better no matter what the situation… especially when she was the only person in the entirety of this world that he could face…

He assumes this alongside the understanding that should he face his mother right now, he is certain that she would bite his head clear off of his body for his being so damn stupid…

The lengthy trip from the parking garage up towards the sixth floor alone is enough to free his mind, slightly clearer from the burdens of the morning… It sounds insane, he knows that it does, but his notion of finding a home inside of a cramped hospital is one that he knows not everybody can understand… At least not everybody that hasn't been forced to grow up inside of an oncology unit…

They could never understand the true meaning behind the phrase _safety in numbers_.

Noah finds a sense of comfort alongside the acknowledgment that for once, he will not find his mother here today… Shelby is much too busy sorting out the mess that he had gotten himself into at school to so much as find time for her sick daughter…

He possesses a sense of guilt, but at the same time, his selfishness overpowers this emotion alongside the fear that Shelby may have left Rachel in the care of their grandparents or aunt in her absence…

Because as much as Noah loves his family, and as much as he trusts them beyond any other entity of this universe, right now the one thing that he truly needs is to spend some time alone with his sister… She was after all, the only person in the entirety of this world who could ever truly allow him to vent in a manner that he knows that he needs to right now before he loses control in its entirety once more…

Lord knows that that is the very last thing that he needs right now.

"Morning, Noah…" The hot young nurse, straight out of college whose schedule Noah has had memorized ever since the day that Rachel had turned this ward into her temporary home smiles seductively towards him… Noah has no doubt worked his magic upon her in these weeks just as he was so well known for, she greets him familiarly as if they have been friends for life, but for once, Noah does not embrace his typical flirtatious self… today, Noah is not interested, "What, do you have a study hall right now or something?"

The woman eyes him alongside a playful smile as if she knows the first thing about him, and despite the idea that but a day or two ago, he would have milked her teasing nature for all it was worth, Noah is nowhere near amused by her antics today.

"No," He responds with a quick sharpness… He is more than aware of the idea of just how rude he sounds, but he can't bring himself to do much of anything about his emotions at the moment, "I got suspended, actually."

The woman before him stands silent as Noah turns abruptly from the nurse's center counsel and towards the corner hallway leading towards Rachel's room… Sure, he may have just lost his chance entirely with pharmacology nurse Katie Locke, but Noah doesn't seem to care… At this point, his mind is strictly following one distinct track, and for once, that track is not being directed towards the female sex.

Stuffing his hands deep inside of his jeans pockets, Noah moves with a cautionary pace, carefully controlling the stride of his motions as he simultaneously uses his time to think about what it is exactly that he is going to say to Rachel first…

Her door is opened wide and welcoming, the draw curtains open in a manner that practically shouts for Noah to run inside and spill his guts outwards and onto the very floor… He is well aware of the notion that it is not in his nature to become emotional, but he can only guess that it becomes a rite of passage for everybody eventually…

It is simply something that he needs to do right now, and Rachel just so happens to be the perfect person for the job.

Noah's heart lifts significantly upwards; he feels a sense of relief for the first time since he'd woken up this morning as he prepares to round inside of Rachel's room only to be halted harshly by a single, fleeting sight that he manages to capture through the corner of his eye…

Somebody, it seems has beaten him to his own sister.

He can feel his heart, previously lifted with notion of its diminishing weight sinking straight downwards and into his stomach once more…

Completely frozen by the sight before him, Noah is certain that he would not be able to move even if he wanted to… His feet are glued to the tile floor below him, mere steps away from Rachel's doorway.

His jaw sliding open, mouth gaping, Noah attempts to piece together the exact reason why it is that his best friend is sitting inside little sister's hospital room right now, laying with her in her bed as Rachel curls up into his side with her head resting against Finn's chest…

The two are wearing smug smiles that makes Noah want to positively slap the both of them.

Noah can feel as his blood boils dangerously over inside of his very veins, his face reddening with fury… He can literally feel his internal temperature rising into a dangerous zone as his skin grows hot from his head straight down into his very toes.

He is getting that feeling again, that same feeling that he had experienced just this morning… Noah wants to _maim_, he wants to positively _kill_… The only difference now was that this wasn't David Karofsky being a smart ass, trying to rile Noah up strictly for the sake of starting a fight… This was Noah's _best friend_, this was Finn Hudson who was placing the moves that Noah had perfected, that Noah had been stupid enough to share with him on his sick sister, his dying sister, his sister that Finn new was clearly off limits.

_"Dude, you know that you're my boy, right?"_ Finn's voice, his words from months prior ring rampantly inside of Noah's ears… Finn's response to Noah's initial confrontation based on his suspicion that Finn had been checking out Rachel, _"I'm not about to do anything to mess that up… Besides, no offense of anything, but I'm dating Quinn, remember?"_

Noah groans inwardly… He had told Finn that he was okay with Finn starting something with Rachel on that night, he had point blank – albeit hesitantly – given his best friend his blessing to put the moves on his little sister.

But a damn lot has certainly changed since then.

Thinking back on it now, Noah has never regretted anything more in the entirety of his life, and Noah damn sure possesses a lot of regrets…

He knows Finn Hudson; Noah knows what Finn Hudson could do to a girl, he knows what Finn Hudson could do to a girl because the two of them were one in the same… His best friend was a charming in his oblivious stupidity, athletic in the sense of riding on Noah's talent, strapping in his boyish good looks…

Noah knew just how much Finn Hudson possessed the capacity to break a girl, even without his particularly meaning to.

Noah's heart is pounding inside of his chest; he is surprised that Finn and Rachel can't hear the thumping organ from straight inside of the room, it is so loud… Sucking in a great breath of air, Noah clears his throat in a desperate bid to clear the tears of frustration that are threatening to overtake him as his emotions begin to boil over their very peak…

The reminder that it wasn't even noon yet does not make his situation particularly better.

Weighing his options heavily inside of his head, Noah is adamant in his consideration of storming inside of that room, tearing Finn from his sister's side, ripping his former friend's very head off and beating the crap out of his torso until he was too tired to so much as move any longer…

He had already committed to this action once today, what was stopping him from doing it again, right?

His feet have gone as far as to carry him forwards and towards the two when his conscience thinks better of the action, reminding him of the absolute stupidity of the idea… He is graciously brought to a halt before he can so much as get half a step in.

This was not the time for a confrontation. And a pediatric oncology unit most certainly was not the place… Besides, inside of a hospital, Finn was most likely to be saved by some heroic doctor before Noah had the opportunity to murder him.

Noah allows his skewed sense of right from wrong make an informed decision for once in the entirety of his life, and never one to walk away from a fight, today Noah runs from it…

And he runs faster than he has ever run in his entire life.

* * *

><p>Noah becomes aware of the idea that his brash decision to drive straight home from the hospital was a bad one the second that he pulls up and into the driveway…<p>

The brute teen lingers inside of his idle car, the sound of the engine rumbling echoing quietly through his ears graciously informing him of its readiness should he need to perform a swift getaway…

He finds himself contemplating his next move for what seems like hours, but with each dwindling second that passes by, Noah becomes more and more aware of the idea that he has absolutely nothing…

Deep down, Noah silently acknowledges this idea that he has truly known for a while now… He'd ignored it for as long as he possibly could have… Noah is not used to the idea of being pushed from the realm of his own control, he is not used to not being able to handle any and every situation as it was thrown at him.

Noah Corcoran was of a naturally strong character… experience has forced it upon him, hell, it has forced it upon all of them… This vulnerability, it was new, foreign… it was proving to leave him dangerously unprepared.

Slamming his fist downwards upon the steering wheel in his frustration, Noah finds himself assaulting the interior of his car to the point that he begins to grow concern about the prospect of releasing the air bags below him… although he is clearly not concerned enough to bring himself to stop.

The horn blows in a deafeningly crude and harsh manner with every blow that his fist lands upon the center console… He can only pray the sound to be a continuing source of annoyance down the entirety of the length of the damn block… Then maybe at least somebody will be able to manifest this stark loss of control that he had experienced earlier today.

"I'm glad that I finally managed to catch you…"

Amidst his vicious assault against his innocent car, Noah can only assume that he had missed the warning call of his passenger side door opening… He catches his mother ducking downwards and into the empty seat but a fraction of a second too late…

Once she closes that door behind her and settles herself comfortably against the leather interior, Noah knows that there is no turning back.

"Shut the car off, Noah…" Her voice is thin in her command, barely above a whisper, yet so threatening that Noah is left positively cringing as he makes the motion to obey her orders without so much as a second thought… His mother rarely is one to lose her temper; Shelby Corcoran was the absolute epitome of calm, cool, and collected… Of course, at the moment, Noah can't really bring himself to blame her too much. "Shut off the car, Noah!"

Her tone of gentle anger is replaced with one of pure aggression after Noah struggles to find the strength inside of him to abide by her callous presence… Of course, this works like a charm… Noah's hands tremble as he turns the keys from inside of the ignition, stalling his noisy engine all in a matter of seconds.

"Are you an idiot?" She embraces that stony quiet once more the second that the lingering groans of Noah's old hunk-a-junk are stifled… He would almost prefer the yelling. "Please tell me that I didn't raise you to be a damn moron, Noah, because there is no way in hell that any son of mine would go against everything that I have ever taught him about fighting with the _same exact boy_ over and over again, and hit him so hard that he had to be sent to the damn emergency room in the back of an ambulance!"

Shelby's face is glistening, beat red as she turns towards him… The tears that well across the entirety of the surface of her eyes is enough to force Noah to look away from his mother almost immediately.

"You broke his cheekbone, Noah… you broke his cheek and you damn near broke his jaw too. He's going to have to have surgery to repair the damage to his nose, they had to put twenty seven stitches in his face altogether, and on top of all of that, now his family is threatening to sue us!" Noah's heart clenches, if possible, even tighter than it had been before so that for a second or two, he is almost positive that he is having a damn heart attack… He hadn't even considered the option of the Karofsky family pursuing civil action… clearly, this has been a stupid error on his part, just like the rest of it.

"Are you going to say anything?" Shelby asks, reacting to his silence… Noah can't help but to wonder why she's even bothered to ask him this, not when she knows that there was absolutely nothing in this world that Noah could say or do to change this situation, to make it any better…

"I'm sorry…" Noah mutters an apology with a half assed tone that he can only hope, his mother construes as his acknowledging the idea that as sorry as he was, or as sorry as he ever could be, he could not change this…

"You're sorry…" Shelby breathes heavily in her stunned repetition of Noah's apology… She doesn't sound convinced. Perhaps that hadn't been the right thing for him to say after all. "You need to stop this, Noah…" Shelby speaks as not a request, but an order… Noah can't seem to find the words to explain to his mother just how much he knows this, how much he wishes that he could change it or how badly it scares him that this was the only life that he truly knew how to live these days… "This new you, it scares me Noah… I am _afraid_ of what you are doing to yourself and I haven't felt this way about you in a very, very long time… Not since…. Well, you know."

He knows exactly what it is that his mother is thinking… hell, he must be the only other person on the face of this planet that understood the line of thought that his mother was trailing down right now… She feared his regression back to his old self, back to his destructive self…

Noah would be lying if she told him that he didn't fear the exact same thing, and despite the idea that he knows himself to be the only person that could truly stop it from happening, he could only wish that things were that easy…

"Are the Karofsky's really threatening to sue me?" Noah mutters quietly following a lengthy period of silence.

"You… and me too," Shelby nods through an airy breath, disappointment laced between her every syllable, "Luckily we have Krista to help us but Noah, I'm telling you this right now, every and any kind of legal fee we get is coming out of your pocket… Medical bills are starting to come in for Rachel already and I just can't afford to defend either of us in a court of law right now."

"I'm so sorry, mom…" Noah's voice chokes as he tries desperately not to make this already hopeless situation even worse by crying in front of his mother… He hasn't done _that_ since he was a child.

"I know you are." Shelby assures him, reaching upwards to clutch onto his shoulder, kneading out the knots building inside of his tense muscles, "But Noah, what happened today happened, okay… Despite what the circumstances leading up to it were, there is nothing that we can do now to change it so there's no use trying. The only thing that we can do now is to move forward."

"We're screwed." Noah shadows Shelby's attempt at optimism with his own pessimistic viewpoint, leaning forwards until his forehead is resting against the steering wheel.

"Miracles happen every day, Noah…" Shelby makes an attempt towards self assurance, but Noah can hear the doubt behind her voice with every word that she speaks.

"Not to us…" Noah reminds her as if this was something that she needed reminding of, "You know as well as I do that miracles don't come around these parts unless you actually pray…" Through his peripherals, Noah watches as his mother eyes him with a silent confusion, and although she doesn't make a motion to correct him, her eyes still narrow inwards with concern. "Besides…" In a final attempt to lighten the mood and save this already dreadful conversation from falling even further downhill, he smiles softly up towards his mother, "We're Jewish."

Shelby doesn't reciprocate Noah's thin grin. Instead, she looks downwards somberly towards him so that his lips can't help but to fall downwards once more, formulating a strong frown as his mind swirls in such a chaotic fashion that his head physically begins to ache.

"Do you miss him?" Even Noah is shocked by the abruptness of the words that have escaped his lips without his meaning to… With no clue as to where it had even come from, Noah attempts to swallow his question, but it's much too late… It's already slipped and fallen straight out of his mouth.

"Do I miss who?" The territory is so foreign that not even Shelby can properly identify who it is that Noah is referring to…

"Dad…" He mumbles through a heavy sigh, his fingers lacing together as he concentrates the entirety of his attention on playing with the appendages, weaving them in and out between the webs of his hands.

"Every day," Shelby doesn't miss a beat. Noah is more than positive that she has been waiting for him to open up about Hiram every single day in the decade since his death; that she would be prepared for when the moment finally did come. "I miss everything about him… I miss the way that he used to make you kids smile, even during the hardest times… I miss his voice; I miss him telling me that he loves me… I miss it all, Noah."

"I've been thinking about him a lot… Ever since this whole thing with Rachel started up again," Noah admits hesitantly alongside the fear that so much as thinking about his father still causes him… At least it's a start, he can't help but to think. "God, it's so stupid… none of this makes any sense."

"Not everything is always going to make sense, Noah." Shelby responds, her gentle tone contrasting harshly against Noah's, laced with frustration and anger, "Take your seeming inability to control yourself against David Karofsky, for instance… that doesn't seem to make any sense… And neither does your sister getting sick or your father dying…" Shelby's eyes are swimming as she directs them downwards and towards her own hands, folded still against her lap… They're rapidly approaching dangerous territory, territory that neither would particularly like to consider despite their seeming lack of any sort of choice in the matter. "I don't know why it happened, Noah, but you're right… it doesn't make sense and you know what; it probably never will… Your dad might be gone but all of us – you, me and Rachel – we're all still here."

"Do you think that he's watching?" Noah pleads for the most difficult, the most impossible of answers in an effort to slowly piece his haze of confusion together… Baby steps, he thinks, baby steps.

"I'd like to," Shelby nods, "I'd like to think that he's there to make sure that nothing bad will happen to you… or to Rachel…" She forces herself to pause, to steady herself as she wipes a quick finger across the underside of her eye, eliminating the tears before they had the opportunity to fall, "Why are you asking all of these questions about your father all of a sudden, Noah? After all this time…"

"Like I said…" Noah cranes his neck, focusing the entirety of his attention outside of the driver's side window, his eyes lingering heavily against the sky, "I've just been thinking about him a lot is al."

"Okay." Shelby gives him the benefit of the doubt, eyeing him concernedly as she attempts to read his very mind and gain some access into the truth.

"You should get back to Rachel…" Noah is vague in his attempts to inform his mother that he knows exactly what it is that she is trying to do, and if she wants the truth, she is going to have to wait a hell of a lot longer, because not even he knows what the truth is these days…

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah…" He nods, and although he is not entirely convincing, he knows that he is at least convincing enough to get her to trust that he will not be galavanting off back off into the wild side the second that she leaves.

"We'll talk more about this later, okay?" Shelby makes it entirely clear that this conversation is far from finished, although Noah had already figured this much… It had barely even had the opportunity to truly start.

Noah can only bring himself to nod in his confirmation; a quick, short bog of the head that Shelby reciprocates to the exact before opening his car door in silence, slipping back out and into the open air, closing Noah inside firmly behind her.

He doesn't move from his spot for a long time…

By the time Noah finds the energy to make so much as a single motion, his mother is already long gone, disappearing inside of her car towards the direction of the hospital; out of sight, out of mind.

The first motion that he does finally commit to is to dig deep inside of his front pocket, retracting his cell phone from his jeans where he toys with the device in consideration only briefly before dialing the familiar number…

He has been waiting all day for the opportunity for somebody to talk to… He had tried speaking with his sister and well, that had been a bust, and while his mother was always good for some quick advice and a stern reminder of where his place was in all of this, Noah knew that there was only so much that he could spill to her without feeling as though she was judging him for doing something wrong…

The phone rings only once before he receives an answer; the shuffle of a brief fumbling filtering through the speakers before a clearly concerned, almost frantic voice filters across his ears…

"Noah… thank God, I was starting to get worried about you…"

"Santana…" Noah breathes deeply, sucking in the steepest breath of air that his lungs could manage, oxygen relieving his system, "Can you come over?"

* * *

><p>There's a broad patch of woods that rests behind his house that not even Noah knows the depth of despite years of attempting to find out…<p>

When he had been about thirteen years old, he had single handedly built a small fort inside of a clearing about a mile or so in that he'd used to hike up to in order to sneak a beer or two from his mother… He hadn't so much as thought of this place in years, but he finds the hideout he'd built from a few rusty nails and lumber that had been rotted through four years ago with ease…

The butts of old cigarettes remain strewn against the dirt path like a mosaic, molded into the mud and the debris… There is no sign of grass or weeds within a hundred feet or so, his old friends having successfully salted the Earth with the stock of accidentally spilled liquor from what seems like centuries ago…

Noah makes himself comfortable against the old stone chair that he had concocted, still standing tall, sipping casually at a handle of Jack Daniels that he has dangling between his hands, full no more than an hour ago, now teetering dangerously at its halfway point…

He has been waiting for Santana for over an hour.

Trying desperately to pretend as if he weren't starting to get nervous about her ditching him, Noah takes yet another sip alongside the understanding that he doesn't think that he would be able to survive yet another let down… Not today, anyway.

The sun has finally begun to set against a day that he would rather forget more than any other… Hugging the bottle close against his lips, he grows all too familiar of the idea towards just how comfortable he is growing with his old notion of attempting to positively drink the clock backwards as just to pretend as if nothing has ever changed to begin with…

And as much as he is actually beginning to fear his ability to make a habit out of sitting in solitude, drinking alone to the extent that the rapidly emptying bottle is actually beginning to speak with him, it is also providing him with the slightest bit of comfort at the same time.

"Seriously, Puck!"

The sound of a familiar voice startles him seeing as how he's been sitting in complete silence for the better part of the hour… Noah stumbles slightly against his own reflexes, the open handle slipping dangerously from between his fingers where it lands against the dirty ground, but a miniscule portion of its precious contents slipping out before he manages to grab a hold of it once more.

"You couldn't have picked any other place for us to meet?" Turning his head, Noah manages to catch a glimpse of Santana just as she ducks beneath an overgrown branch into the clearing that the both of them knew oh so well… She looked less than prepared for an expedition hiking through the woods, although the tree branch and leaves nestled inside of her frizzy hair make her at the very least appear to be slightly more savage…

Noah can't help but to contain his smile, grateful that his purpose behind Santana's presence is already being utilized before the girl had so much as truly arrived.

"Sorry…" Noah mutters the half-assed apology, although in all fairness, he does recognize the idea that he could have left her a little bit more notice towards his whereabouts than an illegibly scrawled note taped to his front door… But it had been an entirely last minute decision, it wasn't his fault that she had yet to change out of her cheerleading uniform and boots, right? "I just needed to get away for a little while…"

Santana's brow arches as she truly glances towards Noah for the first time since her arrival, eyes falling towards the bottle of booze nestled protectively inside of his right hand, before darting upwards back to him once more.

"Are you okay?" Her voice slants seriously, echoed by a hint of concern as she comes to the understanding as to why Noah had made her walk to China and back just to meet up with him in the first place… He hasn't searched for a place for the two of them to hide without anybody else knowing in a long time.

"Not really…" Noah shrugs as Santana's resolve lowers instantaneously… She nods her head alongside the understanding that right now, Noah was simply looking for somebody that he could feel safe opening up to and that somehow, against all odds, her of all people has become that person.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Santana shrugs in her offering, scuffing the toes of her shoes awkwardly into the dirt only briefly before she sits herself down against a tree stump besides Noah… close, yet still, far away enough to provide him with a sense of distance; both of which he so desperately craved…

Noah is rapidly starting to think that calling Santana had been the best decision that he had made all day.

Noah takes his time an answering her, a moment that Santana graciously provides him with as he reaches downwards and gathers a handful of stones into his free palm, tossing them with all of his might, one by one into the river that streams about ten feet below the rock face they rest upon…

He contemplates Santana's offer carefully… Does he want to talk about it? He is starting to get less and less certain of this answer with every passing second… He must want to talk about it, he considers, after all, why else would he have called Santana, but at the same time, he can't help but to fear details, to fear opening up to anybody about just how badly he is actually doing, just how much he has been perceiving the entirety of the world as being out to get him, with nobody for miles willing to come save him.

"Is this about what happened in school today?" Santana offers Noah a suggested starting point.

"Kind of…" Noah shrugs vaguely, watching as Santana's eyes narrow towards Noah's lack of providing her with any sort of valuable insight as to why Noah had insisted upon dragging her into the middle of the woods if all for nothing.

"Well… is it about Rachel?" She takes her second most educated guess; her voice rising in the inclination of uncertainty.

"Kind of…" He provides her with one in the same answer, except this time, his eyes jolt with the notion that she is at least on the right track.

"You need to give me a little more than that, you know Noah…" She frustrates with ease; hers and Noah's tempers have always been one in the same, it was a miracle that their relationship had ever lasted as long as it actually had…

"It's about what happened at school today, it's about that dick Karofsky, it's about Rachel, it's about Finn, it's about my dad…" Noah tapers off, the words flying from his mouth at a mile a minute upon busting from the very seams in their search for a means of escape… "It's about everything."

"Okay…" Noah can practically see Santana's eyes spinning in circles as she attempts to follow his every thought process despite what incredibly little he is actually providing her with, "You lost me already… Can we… um… can we start from the beginning, maybe?"

"They're saying that I might be expelled…" He picks a strong beginning, the main focus point currently on his mind, "That the Karofsky's are thinking about pressing charges against me and my mom for putting their kid in the hospital."

"Why your mom?" Santana perks upwards towards the news, her brows raising with, if possible, even more confusion than what she had even displayed upon her face before.

"Something about pinning her as an unfit mother because of all of the trouble I've gotten myself into…" Noah offers the expression of remorse that he couldn't quite bring himself to distinguish upon his mother upon being offered the opportunity… the acknowledgment towards how much deeper into this mess he had dragged both him, and his family into now that he had his mother inside of the pit directly besides him.

"That's bullshit!" Santana's reaction is passionate and unexpected; Noah twitches in the unsuspecting heated response that Santana offers him, "Do they not know about all of the things that your family is dealing with right now? Shelby is… Shelby's amazing… I wish that my mom was as cool as Shelby is."

"Preach…" Noah sighs in his disappointment, taking another thick gulp from his bottle as he makes yet another desperate attempt to lighten his head in order to make up for his heavy heart, "But that doesn't seem to matter."

Noah shakes his head as he extends the half empty bottle towards Santana who hesitates only briefly before accepting the offer.

"Thanks," Santana nods, bringing the edge of the bottle up towards her lips, taking an impressive sip that rivals even Noah's own… Experienced, Noah used to call the two of them at the time that they had been dating; a power couple by every meaning of the word, "Take a sip of anything that makes it right, right?"

"And yet we always seem to come back for more…" Noah laughs, but it's a motion laced with sadness as he outstretches his hands in a silent indication for Santana not to hog the goods that he has to offer, grateful when she complies more than willingly.

"This seems kind of elaborate for just one night of feeling, doesn't it?" Santana raises her eyebrows, questioning the both of their actions as the harsh liquid burns its way down the entirety of Noah's throat once more… She's right, of course she is right, yet still, neither of them can seem to find a way to stop.

"I guess I'm just running a bit low on inspiration is all…" Noah chokes down a final swallow, wincing in pain as his stomach bubbles uncomfortably, "Talk about living well and dying young, huh?"

"You're missing one important part of that equation…" Santana informs him with a cheeky grin that has Noah's mouth slanting playfully.

"Yeah, what's that?" Noah smirks, playing along so that he is damn near the shadow of his old, flirtatious self that has him craving more instantaneously.

"Living well…" Her voice drops; she is being serious, Noah can tell this, his face wrinkling with concern once more…

"God, I'm sick of being such a fuck up all the time!" Noah tilts his head backwards, eyes towards the sky and arms outstretched as he screams his words upwards and into the sky, "My mom does nothing but bend over backwards for me and here I am dragging her out of the hospital and away from my sick sister just to come bail me out of yet another mess that could have been avoided all along…"

"You're not a fuck up _all_ the time, Noah…" That tone is back again; sly, playful, seductive… Noah finds himself caught inside of it; he feels like an animal, an animal ensnared inside of a trap that leaves him immobile once more, "Do you wanna know how I know that?"

"Because I managed to make it all the way to halfway through my senior year before I got kicked out of school… again?" He offers his best rendition of an answer, but it is peppered by the remnants of a sarcastic anger, "Because everybody else thought that I would be in jail by now."

"No, because the Noah that I used to know – _Puck_ – he never would have seen just how wrong he truly was, never… He never would have put his mother or his sister or sure as hell not his ex-girlfriend before himself." Noah pauses shortly, his heart thumping against his ribcage as he allows for the remainder of his muscles to finally relax, "That's how I know."

"Ms. Friggen Pillsbury wants me to sit in her office every single day during lunch so that I could talk about my feelings with her." Noah laughs at the mere idea; he doesn't even bother trying to suppress the strong roll of his eyes.

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea, Noah…" The boy's eyes snap upwards; against all odds, he finds himself positively glaring at her, at the idea of him truly being the only person in the entirety of this world that sees just how ridiculous all of this is.

"I think that I'm just afraid of everything that I might find in there is all." Not even Noah recognizes the words that escape from the inside of his throat… He marvels towards the mere idea, the notion that Santana had forced him to say something like that…

The only thing that strikes Noah even harder is the reminder that Santana didn't force him.

"I'd be more worried about you if you weren't." Santana admits heartedly…

"I saw what this disease did to my dad, Santana…" Noah tells her, tears seeping from across the bottoms of his eyes as he buries his face inside of his hands and turns away from Santana… He doesn't want Santana to see him like this, but at the same time, leans into her touch as she rests her hand across the center or his broad shoulders, "I'm becoming him."

"No you're not." Santana responds quickly.

"You never even knew my father, Santana…" Noah forces himself to remind her of this seemingly minute detail, burying his face even further inside of his palms as he shakes his head gently from side to side.

"But I know that…" Santana pauses and Noah can hear her swallowing heavily, regurgitating the tears against the back of her throat, "I know that you could never do anything like that… ever."

"Are you sure about that, Santana?" Noah asks her harshly, begging her to be truthful with him as he finally turns around to face her… He wants to see the look inside of her eyes the moment that she finally builds up enough courage to properly answer him… "Because earlier this morning, I almost actually understood how it is that a situation could ever get so bad that somebody would want to blow their freaking brains straight out of their head, so now how about you tell me that I could never do anything like that!"

"You can't think like this, Noah…" Santana is begging with him, pleading for his understanding… Noah forces himself to remember that not everybody has experience with this sort of thing, that not everybody can be prepared…

"Rachel and Finn are hooking up…" He rambles, the words seeping from behind his throat now that Santana has graced him with the opportunity to actually do so, but he gags at the mere reminder of the sight that had been bestowed upon him inside of the hospital earlier that morning…

"What?" Santana snorts with a laughter that she cannot control, a progressing tone that practically has the girl doubled over before she manages to catch the serious look displayed upon Noah's face that silences her almost instantly, "Oh… you're serious… sorry."

"I went to the hospital earlier to talk to Rachel," Noah rolls his eyes at the memory, his relaying of the story, in combination with the copious amounts of alcohol that he has been consuming being damn near enough to have him puking. "And there they were…"

"Your sister isn't a moron Noah," Santana points out the obvious. "I wouldn't be too concerned."

"Yeah, but Finn is…" Noah points through a motion that Santana can only shrug in response to; there was no arguing that point…

Noah takes a deep breath, his motions greatly exaggerated through the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he powers his lungful of air into one strong, consistent sip, draining his whisky in seconds flat before he throws the empty glass bottle against a tree, watching satisfied as it shatters before him.

"This is it, Santana…" Noah informs her morbidly… He doesn't want to lie to her; an empty bottle never lies to anybody… At least the truth would get him further than simply crossing his fingers and praying to God would ever do so anyway.

"So I take it that this is your means of coping…" Santana raises an eyebrow, confused between her feelings of allowing Noah to vent and concern as he pulls a second bottle from inside of the backpack at his feet, "Drinking yourself into oblivion."

"That's the plan," Noah tears at the paper seal with his teeth before he peels the cap backwards.

"Well if that's the case then how about you share the wealth?" Santana beckons for the bottle with her fingers, shrugging off her concern towards both of their actions as he openly accepts her request, "If you promise not to fall on your face tonight, I'll try to do the same okay…"

"Do you know how many things out here can kill you right now?" Noah mimics Santana's own warning to him that she had delivered at Tony Banks' post-game celebration just last Friday night, but his words are more mocking, playful…

"At least we kill the pain, right?" She shrugs against her own advice, lips to bottle, head tilted back until her chin was positively pointed upwards and towards the very sky… He's never seen anybody take a swig like that of anything in his entire life… especially of whisky.

"The clouds look like they're on fire…" Santana giggles, hiccupping slightly as she grimaces through a swallow… Noah's eyes follow Santana's own, directing towards the sky in an effort to take in exactly what it is that Santana is trying to say… The gentle red silhouetting the fading sunset bordering the rows of clouds; Santana was right, the sky looked as if it were positively exploding, "It looks like our entire town is bleeding."

Noah squints against the sunlight as it sinks behind the awaiting mountain before him and reflects directly into his eyes… Santana is right, the town below their feet appears to be burning, and suddenly, Noah can't seem to put to rest this image of a smoldering city as it floods across his mind…

"Hey… you know, if it makes you feel any better, you weren't the only person with an eventful day, you know…" Santana motions towards him with the open tip of the bottle as if to gesture that it was indeed him that she was talking to despite the idea that they were the only ones inside of these woods within a mile radius, "I… I uh… told my parents about me and Brittney this afternoon."

"How did that go?" Noah raises his eyebrows in his surprise towards the announcement… Noah had had his fair share of experience with Santana Lopez's parents; they'd barely gotten accustomed to the idea of their daughter dating a Jewish guy, let alone another guy…

Noah eyes Santana nervously as he awaits her answer, but she remains silent… Instead, her response is manifested in yet another heavy swig of liquor; of course, that seems to be enough of an answer in itself.

"That bad, huh?" Noah asks through a gentle chortle, a laugh that isn't meant to be perceived as humorous, but as representative of the deep pain that bubbles straight downwards into his stomach, reminding him that if he doesn't laugh right now, he will positively cry.

"They kicked me out of the house…" Santana informs him through a quiet smile that sneaks outwards from behind the lip of the bottle that she can't seem to stop kissing…

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Santana takes her head, secretly grateful for the coveted support, "Like I said… maybe it's for the best… Everything happens for a reason, right?"

"Do you have any place to stay?" Noah eyes Santana carefully, watching as her shoulders twitch upwards and into a shrug, "Because you know, my house is always open… I mean, now that Rachel is in the hospital my mom spends most of her time over there anyway… Things kind of… they kind of have a tendency of getting lonely around here."

"What about your aunt?" Santana asks him with a continuing skepticism, "Didn't she move in with you guys?"

"You won't even notice her, I swear…" Noah quickly waves off her concern in an attempt to force her to focus more strongly on herself and where it was that she was going to sleep tonight rather than the worry over who it was that she was going to run into inside of the Corcoran home, "She's usually just working all the time, and when she isn't working she's at the hospital too…"

"That's a generous offer, Noah…" Santana jolts into a formality, one that is far separated from their conversation of mere moments ago, "But you know, we can't just sit around inside of your house and drink all of our problems away all day… We can't do this forever."

"No, but we can do it for now…" Noah shrugs, snatching the bottle of Jack Daniels out from inside of her hands in her moment of dazed confusion.

"I hope you find out who you are, Noah…" Santana sighs in a manner that not even his healthy buzz can ignore.

"I already know who I am…" Noah informs her pointedly, "I just wish that I didn't…" He shakes his head against his fading voice, the two lingering in their silence for several distinct moments before Noah finally considers Santana's words, capping the whisky bottle and placing it back inside of his backpack.

"Come on," Noah waves for Santana to follow him as he wraps the straps of his bag about his back and makes a motion towards the trail leading back towards his backyard, "Let's get the hell out of here."

The walk back is committed in a perfect silence… It's comfortable, seeps between the open nature, the diminishing sunlight…

It takes all of twenty five minutes before they are emerging from within the bushes separating the crowded woods from the open backyard…

"Come on, you wanna check out your new digs or what?" Noah jokes playfully with Santana, nudging her with his elbow as she rolls her eyes through a soft laugh, wrapping her arm through Noah's, allowing him to escort her silently, "We have to go through the front door though… I jammed a screwdriver into the back one when I was ten years old and we still haven't gotten around to fixing it so it doesn't exactly open per se…"

"Is that my first lesson of the Corcoran house?" Noah can feel Santana relaxing besides him as she finally begins to grow comfortable with the notion of making the Corcoran couch her home for the next couple of days at least…

"Yeah, and you'd better take notes…" Noah leans into the sound of his own voice, a trite and true laugh that he'd almost forgotten himself to be so much as capable of making after everything that had happened to him today, "Because there are a lot of them."

He feels as though he is walking on thin air for the first time in weeks… Noah Corcoran is boosted, he is invincible, he foolishly allows such craved feeling to overpower his ministrations as him and Santana round about the back side of the house and towards the front door where his hopes are dashed into instantaneous pieces…

There is a cop car parked directly outside of his house, nestled in the spot that his mother had previously claimed until she all but permanently relocated her parking space to the garage at Lima Memorial Hospital…

The squad car is empty but it does not take Noah very long to locate its patrons… Two police officers are standing side by side against each other at his front porch, knocking incessantly at the wooden door as they attempt to peer through the tiny windows in search for an echo of movement…

"Noah…" Santana whispers her concerned warning as if she doesn't believe Noah able to see the police officers standing directly in front of him…

"Shh…" Noah silences her, quickly slipping the booze-filled backpack from around his shoulders and hiding it behind the bushes surrounding the front of his home… The last thing that he needs right now is to be charged with minor in possession, "It'll be okay, San… Um… excuse me?" His voice elevates as he calls for the officers' attention, both men swiveling towards the sound of his voice, eying him suspiciously already, "Can I help you?"

"Noah Corcoran?" The taller of the two asks for him specifically by name as they begin to advance towards him, thumbs secured into their belts, dangerously close to the firearm at their hips as they flank Noah at either side, expertly boxing Santana out and away from him in a manner that has him suddenly craving some familiar body contact.

"Yeah…" Noah's heart is pounding against the inside of his very throat, a dramatic cadence that is exemplified through the slight tremble behind his voice.

"You're under arrest, son," Noah is flipped impressively, back to the officers, torso pressed firmly up and against the hood of the cop car as his hands are handcuffed in one abrupt, swift motion that renders him completely immobile, vulnerable to the world, "For the assault of David Karofsky."

* * *

><p><strong>Miriami<strong>** – Thank you! Rachel's chapter is coming up next so there will be more of Rachel and Shelby in the next chapter. I have some more ideas for stories but I don't wanna start any until I'm done with this one, I'm much too ADD to handle two stories at once :)**

**Princess-N-xoxo**** – Thank you so much, I'm honored truly, but I'm sorry to leave you so sad in places, things are going to start snowballing from here on out for a little while though. Rachel's POV is coming up next! Her and Noah are going to hit some snags coming up soon, but their relationship is strong, they won't be giving up on each other any time soon. **

**Solemnxhypnotic**** – I'm so glad you're alive! Don't worry, there's no need to apologize trust me, I know who much life has a tendency to get in the way. He beat the crap out of Karofsky pretty good, he may not have killed him but it's definitely gonna come back to bite him in the ass… Him and Rachel are going to hit a little bit of a bump in the road thanks to Noah's tendency to distance himself, but their relationship is stronger than a stupid little fight. Thank you so much for the review!**

**Readerforlife**** – Thank you as always!**

**BayGirl123**** – Thank you so much for the review! Rachel's POV is coming up next and Quinn's going to have a big role in the chapter, we'll get a little bit more insight about her character and she's also going to help Rachel through a few tough decisions. **

**Ballerina03**** – Oh wow, I am truly honored, thank you much! All of these reviews are always truly humbling… If only you could see some of the stupid mistakes that I make before editing haha. Congratulations on your award, what sport do you play? The MCAT went well, but mostly I'm just glad that it's over haha. I'm hoping to go into pediatrics too, it's a lot of work but well worth it, I assure you. My parents' biggest pet peeve is our spellings too, they grew up in Ireland and we've literally lived here since I was two years old and they can't seem to switch it… Believe it or not I have lived in New York most of my life and have never seen a Broadway play, but I've heard good things about Lion King. Vancouver and Niagra Falls have been on my list of places to go for a long time now (the Rockies are beautiful, especially if you ski or snowboard or anything like that it's amazing). I know I've been slacking in Rachel action but her chapter is coming up next so hopefully I'll make it up to you then… I think it's safe to say that Noah will be staying far away from Karofsky from here on out, but the issues from his last fight are gonna linger for quite some time… I'll definitely keep my eyes open for any stories to pass along in your general direction. Good luck on all of your exams, I'm sure you'll do fine and thank you as always!**

**Karissa**** – Rachel will definitely get some breathing room in the next chapter. Thank you for your review!**

**SuzQQ**** – Haha, I considered having Karofsky meet some terrible fate but I chickened out on it because I didn't want him to get in too much trouble… I totally agree with you, I prefer Noah and Rachel as a couple but this idea popped up in my head one day and I just couldn't get rid of it so I figured I'd test it out so I'm glad you're enjoying. I always feel like a terrible person for just throwing all this stuff at this poor family, and things are definitely going to get worse before they get better, but their little family is strong, they'll get through it. Also, I assure you, Finchel scenes might just be as hard for me to write as they are for you to read :) Of course, Rachel is still a fifteen year old girl and right now, she's vulnerable and is going to have a tendency to latch onto anybody that offers her that sense of comfort whether it ends up being a good or a bad thing we'll find out, but Quinn will make an appearance next chapter to try and talk some sense into her so don't worry. Thank you for the review!**


	31. Rachel Corcoran November 2011 Part I

**Well, at the risk of sounding redundant, I'm sorry for the wait. Life has just been finding to get in the way lately no matter what, and on top of that I had a bit of a tough time writing this chapter, just because I'm trying to set a few things up and didn't really know where to start or finish…**

**Anyways, this one is a doozy, it's just a little over 15,000 words so it's easily the longest one yet; a lot of things happen that will progress to bigger issues in later chapters, but just remember, things are going to get worse before they start getting better, everybody is at a stage where they're starting to reach their breaking point. **

**Thank you all for your patience, I hope it was worth the wait.**

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><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran<strong> – November 2011  
><em>(Part I)<em>

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><p>Lying still and complacent inside of a hospital bed did not necessarily mean that Rachel Corcoran did not continue to remain one hundred percent ready to fight, but these days, it was starting to appear to her as if that was exactly what it meant.<p>

To say that Rachel was feeling down on her luck as of late would be a vast understatement… Of course, her current predicament – being alone inside of the hospital – was not particularly helping, but it being the morning of her brother's court hearing and all, Rachel had not been expecting much company today…

Especially seeing how the majority of her company these days had come solely from her mother.

It's been three weeks.

Three weeks since Rachel had been hopelessly contained inside of a hospital room, three weeks during which an extended series of remarkably unfortunate events had left her feeling too sick to so much as move every single day that she had supposed to be released…

More recently, it was starting to seem as if there was nobody in the entirety of this world other than her… She had barely seen much of anybody since that fateful day that she had been rushed into a Lima emergency room, but Rachel wasn't an idiot, she has long understood exactly how things like this had a tendency to work…

It had been clear to her when she had been four years old, and if anything, it was even clearer now.

Her story had made headline news for just over a week or so; sympathy cards, flowers, donations, had all flooded into her home… or so Shelby had recounted for her… But as expected, there was eventually something else looking to come her way and bump her off, pushing her down the rungs of ladder until the name _Rachel Corcoran_ was nothing more than a sad, tragic story; a condition that people could only ever find the guts to whisper about.

Her friends will slowly begin to understand why it is that she no longer calls, but at the same time, they will mistakenly think to reciprocate the actions themselves until ultimately, their reduced to a hide out, lingering in the wake of waiting for this latest empire to fall while simultaneously understanding that this might never actually happen…

Not even Noah has been coming around lately; and in his lack of presence, his inherent inability to so much as answer her phone calls or even her texts, Rachel was starting to miss her big brother… Her current company – reduced solely to her mother, grandparents, aunt and occasionally Finn – could only take her so far…

She missed the unconditional protection that Noah has provided her; that she has been clutching to ever since their childhood. She missed the ability to have a friend that she felt confident in telling absolutely everything. She missed the one person that was ever capable of keeping her safe from all of the monsters that tended to make their homes inside of her head, singing her to sleep with their ballads of guaranteed destruction.

Even her own mother had noticed Noah's distance; with not only Rachel, but with her as well…

Suspicion has enticed obvious rumors that Noah's distance correlated directly with his arrest, but Rachel was starting to get the feeling that it was more than that, much more… And deep down, Rachel knows that her mother believes the same exact thing.

It has been two weeks since Noah had been arrested in front of their own home for an assault on David Karofsky that had ultimately put the boy in the hospital.

Karofsky was fine; the kid was as thick as a board, of course he was going to be fine… A few lingering bruises, some stitches and one fractured cheekbone later, and David was out of the ER within a matter of hours… Hell, he was even expected to be able to play in Friday's state championship football game…

The biggest question now was whether or not Noah would be able to as well.

Her brother's suspension from school had just finally been lifted today… Of course, the idea that he would be spending the day in court complicated the matter slightly…

They have been hiding the details of exactly what happened between Noah and Karofsky on that fateful day from Rachel as much as they possibly could, and as much as she tries to understand their intentions, there was only so much of those pitiful looks, that awkward behavior, the way the subject was changed every time Rachel so much as came close, that she could handle.

The only thing that Rachel knows – that Rachel _truly_ knows – is that a couple of weeks ago during a morning football practice, Noah and David Karofsky had gotten into a fight, a physical fight that Noah had wound up winning by a long haul…

The most that Rachel had managed to learn through the grapevine was that the fight had been fueled by something that Karofsky had said… Well, about several _somethings_ that Karofsky had said; about her, about Santana, about everything that was going on in their lives…

Of course, every time that Rachel asked somebody about it, they appeared to grow fuzzy on the actual details.

With the support of her parents, Shelby had just barely managed to scrape up the bail money that had Noah out of jail early in the night of his arrest… But nicer as it was, spending his days in his bedroom rather than inside of a holding cell at Lima's Police Department, this was far from being over…

They had gotten lucky so far; an aunt in the legal game, Shelby's sister had managed to strike some sort of deal with the Karofsky's… Rachel didn't know the details. Never able to make heads or tails out of the whole concept of law, she did know while the Karofsky's were left ineligible to file civil charges, at the same time, the general agreement involved Noah pleading guilty to a charge of aggravated assault…

She is not a stupid girl; Rachel knows the purpose and meaning behind a plea bargain, but still, the reminder that Noah still faced up to six months inside of a juvenile detention facility didn't seem like much of a bargain to her.

These days, Rachel can't help but to fall back against a personal commitment that she had been determined to follow since childhood, and despite her best judgments, had found herself asking the question _why_ an awful lot…

Why things like this kept happening to her family. Why no matter how hard they tried, the last name Corcoran simply seemed indefinitely correlated with nothing but bad luck.

She cannot understand why it is that this keeps happening to her family, but she does know this much; that anybody that perceives their luck as nothing more than a series of misfortune is clearly just not looking hard enough…

Rachel Corcoran is a firm believer of fate… Everything that happens, it happens for a reason, every last happenstance is pre-determined… No matter how hard you try, you will never be able to change your own destiny.

Growing understandably fidgety, Rachel finds herself increasingly nervous in the name of her brother… She has tried; Lord knows she has tried her hardest to get her doctors to allow for her release in the sake of today's hearings… But Rachel's lab work, her blood counts have been returning concernedly low lately… It was looking as though there would be another several days between her being stuck here, and her so much as considering the idea of being released.

And Rachel would be lying if she said that she wasn't pissed about it.

She was pissed at her body for betraying her in such an incredulous manner once more. She was pissed at her brother for foolishly getting himself into this mess. And now, she was finding herself increasingly pissed at her mother, who had promised to stop by the hospital with Noah before his hearing… But with time running out fast, Rachel is starting to get nervous that Shelby is pulling back on her word…

She wants to go home. Rachel is tired of waiting, and yet still, for some reason unknown to even herself, she simply refuses to step out of the queue line…

Rachel makes the motion to stand up; she knows from experience that laying inside of this bed all day feeling sorry for herself is not going to do anything to pull her out of this inexplicable funk that she had found herself inside of…

Forcing herself into a standing position, Rachel wraps her legs upwards and around the side of her bed; her intentions being aiming her towards her bathroom to clean herself off, to start this day fresh…

But even this manages to bring immediate disappointment the second that Rachel foolishly decides to turn her head back once more…

Rachel's eyes catch via her peripheral vision just beneath the overhead light… It is as if it is taunting her, popping outwards, the image before her into three dimensions as if to remind her of just how much everything was about to change…

Even more so, anyway…

Rubbing a careful hand across the top of her head, the first thought that comes to Rachel's mind is that things do not feel particularly different… She is more than aware that the change thus far is miniscule, but for all intents and purposes, the image of a handful of strands of hair, scattered across her clear white pillow case might as well be her entire head of hair…

Rachel was first made aware of the idea that her hair had begun to fall out just yesterday; her nightly sponge bath leaving her hairline receding with each swipe of a wet washcloth, thick, dark strands sticking out harshly against the light cotton…

She considered herself lucky so far, at least her hair was still lingering long enough that she knew that she would be able to hide it from view for at least a little while longer… The thing was, as much as they all knew this bound to happen, it still remained something that Rachel was simply not ready to confront…

She tries, Rachel tries desperately not to forget what it means to be this ready to fight for something, but these days, it is an action that is easier said than it is done… The idea alone terrifies her, Rachel Corcoran was one that never allows herself to fall astray, not this much anyway… yet, here she is…

Shuffling slowly towards the bathroom, Rachel attempts to concentrate solely on the sticky grips lining the bottoms of her socks as they stick like suction cups to the tile floor, but still, the grueling journey towards the bathroom mirror remains on the forefront of her mind…

She approaches the wall unit with her eyes squeezed determinedly closed, several seconds correlating with several deep breath before she risks squinting her eyes slowly open towards her own reflection, terrified at what it was that she may see looking back.

In terms of the physical sense, the difference was miniscule; the slightest expanding of her exposed scalp, a predicament that might have grown _slightly_ worse overnight – if that…

Yet still, Rachel remains relentless in her attempts towards a cover up, extending the inevitable for, if anything, a little while longer… She brushes her bangs as far to the side as they can possibly go, attempting to ignore the idea that she is simply pulling more hair between her tangled fingers than even before as she does so.

Rachel pauses; she flings her arm back down firmly against her side, a sudden fit of anger that has her fuming at herself, at her rebellious body, and at the drugs that were currently putting her in this exact predicament that she was trying so desperately to ignore…

Sucking in a deep breath, Rachel moves with the motions and begs herself to hold tightly on to her tears.

_Don't let them see you cry,_ She can only repeat to herself, _please don't let them see you cry._

Propelling her rage into action, Rachel forces herself away from her own pitiful reflection alongside the understanding that if she did not do it right now, she would simply stand at the mirror for the rest of her life, watch each individual strand of hair fall from her head, wallow in self pity until she dropped dead of sheer exhaustion.

Rachel Corcoran did not let herself do that, she _could_ not let herself do that… Lord knows, she wouldn't be able to survive it.

Vying for at least some sense of productivity in her otherwise worthless existence, Rachel forces herself into a sudden fit of hyper-drive… Ignoring her lingering headache, the relentless exhaustion, her increasingly unsteady stomach, Rachel strives for action; anything to help to keep her mind lingering on everything that was currently happening inside of her body, and now, outside of it as well.

Rachel tries desperately not to count the strands of hair as she plucks them from her pillow and piles them upwards and into the palm of her hand… She is almost grateful when she subconsciously loses count early on…

"Hey."

She is just swiping the final remnants of evidence from view when she hears the voice, jumping in her surprise, forcing her to look insurmountably guilty as an enormous, looming shadow blocks the dull light that had been streaming into her room from inside of the hallway.

"Hi, Finn…" She attempts to sound casual, but her voice is sharp and abrupt, dripping with a guilty conscious that she is certain is plastered all across her face as well… And although she tries to convince herself that she has nothing to be ashamed of, Rachel still makes a job out of concealing her palms beneath the underside of her bed, allowing the hair still stuck to the center of her palm to fall to the floor at her feet.

"What are you doing?" Finn looks for a means of a decent conversation starter, lingering awkwardly in the doorway, marking an obvious milestone in their relationship in which he remained entirely unable to find something to talk about without making it obvious that both where they were and why they were here was lingering deep inside of his mind.

"I'm just cleaning up a little bit, that's all…" Rachel forces the sweetest of smiles upon her face, trying to appear as innocent as humanly possible as she walks slowly towards her boyfriend, wiping her nervously sweating palms against the pants leg of her sweatpants for added security as she moves, "Places like this tend to get a little bit messy when you can't leave them for three weeks…"

"Hey, you know, you probably shouldn't be stressing yourself out with something like cleaning…" Finn points out the obvious, marching slowly forwards, closer and closer to the scene of the crime; evidence bundled in the fibers of Rachel's hair sticking out starkly against the tile floor, "You should be resting, I can clean for you and…"

"Don't!" Rachel shouts with an involuntary panic that surprises even herself as Finn screeches to a halt, his eyes slanting curiously towards Rachel in search of an explanation towards her unexpected reaction, "I mean… don't worry about it, I was just finishing up anyway…"

"Okay…" Finn nods softly, confusing still grossly apparent upon his features as Rachel attempts, and fails, a smile…

The girl can feel her heart thumping desperate and dangerous inside of her chest… She hates more than anything else in this world, being treated as if she were an invalid, as if she could do no more than lay in her bed and simply wait for something to happen… But today, Rachel swallows her tongue against the innermost workings of her mind, trying desperately to understand the idea that while all of this was old news for her, it was still brand new territory for Finn…

She tries to understand that while this will take some adjusting on both of their parts, being so busy adjusting everything else in her life as well was making it difficult.

"You're um… you're looking a little pale, are you feeling alright?" Finn steps into a halt inches from Rachel's body, reaching upwards so that his hand grazes gently across her jaw line, his fingers coming dangerously close to her deteriorating hair before Rachel ultimately pulls away nervously… Finn tense immediately, consistently terrified of making the wrong move so that Rachel regrets her obvious distance almost immediately.

"I have cancer, Finn…" The words slip from Rachel's mouth alongside a small smile… They are designed to be emitted alongside a sense of sarcasm, a quick joke for the sake of making the tall teenager before her laugh… She should have known that it never would have worked, "That was crass… I'm sorry." Rachel corrects herself almost immediately.

"It's okay," Finn shakes off an unwarranted apology, "I… I don't even really know what crass means so I don't mind it… I was just wondering how it is that you can always look so sad when you're so beautiful is all."

Finn's fingertips dance beneath Rachel's chin; his touch remarkably gentle despite his deceiving size as he tips her chin upwards, forcing her eyes to gaze into his own.

"Look at me Finn," Rachel shakes her head in disagreement; a silent indication that he does not have to spew lies such as that simply to make her feel better about herself, "I'm far from beautiful."

"You're beautiful." Finn repeats, smiling despite Rachel's apparent nerves, "Trust me… I'll only ever say that word for you…" The boy smiles, his most charming of smirks as he leans forwards, bending at his knees as to compensate for his enormous height against her miniature one… Their foreheads touch, eyes locking only briefly before they shut against one another's, lingering in the closest of contact that Rachel knows she can risk with her depleted immune system…

"What else have you been doing around here? Other than cleaning, I mean…" Rachel can feel Finn's warm breath against her equally warm skin as he speaks, pulling her closer, keeping them in the tightest of proximities to each other.

"Nothing," Rachel's head shakes against Finn's body as she sinks into his broad chest, embracing the feeling of his strong arms as they wrap gently about her tiny shoulders, "I'm starting to get a little stir crazy around here is all… Today is the first day in a while that I actually feel well enough to get up and walk around, so you know… I was just taking advantage, is all."

"Oh… so do you wanna, I don't know… Do you wanna walk around the hallway or something?" Finn makes the tentative suggestion, unsure as to whether or not this is the right thing to do, relaxing only after Rachel pulls away from Finn and tilts her head upwards towards him, her broad smile telling him everything that he needs to know.

"I think that I would like that." Rachel's lips tilt upwards for what seems like the first time in weeks… She studies Finn, considers him, considers the idea that she had never once actively searched for a person by which she could eventually learn to love unconditionally… Rachel has always been a firm believer of the idea that this was something that would find _her_ – years down the line, of course – she had never once thought that it could ever be something that had been right in front of her this entire time.

Maybe she was simply smitten, who knew… Maybe she was getting so tangled up into the idea of turning a truly terrible situation into one that was not quite so bad after all… But whatever the reason, she couldn't get the idea of taking all of the energy that her fragile body had left inside, and making it something worthy to think the world of.

Finn smiles brightly, grateful for an opportunity to give Rachel a chance to smile once more as he juts his elbow outwards and towards Rachel, providing her with the opportunity to wrap her arm within his own and hold on; an invitation that Rachel accepts gratefully as he supports her with the entirety of his own body weight.

"Ready?" He asks, her feet stumbling slightly over each other as she adjusts to Finn's remarkably larger frame.

"Ready," Rachel nods, smiling gratefully as Finn clasps his free hand about the thin, metal IV pole that leads into the line protruding from Rachel's chest, freeing the girl from the burden of her attachment just this once.

He tugs gently and silently at her arm, pulling the tandem unit towards the door as he leans forwards into her lips in a motion that silently indicates his desire for her reciprocations… She wants to; she wants nothing more than to have the opportunity to freely kiss her boyfriend, if only for a moment, but Rachel finds herself, she forces herself to pull backwards and away, just before his lips could manage to touch her own.

The duo hesitates as a unit, awkwardness lingering between them as Rachel slowly hangs her head until her chin touches her chest, reddening with embarrassment as Finn's jaw drops with blatant confusion, afraid that he has done something impossibly wrong in the midst of what he had believed to be a perfect motion.

"I'm sorry…" Rachel sighs, eyes still pointing towards the ground in her unwillingness to watch Finn's reaction as she apologizes for something entirely devoid of her own control, "My blood counts are just low right now is all, Finn… My doctor warned me that I'm not allowed… I don't think that I'm allowed to kiss anybody right now."

"Oh…" Finn pulls subconsciously backwards, his body separating slightly from her own as if for fear that he can hurt her just by standing too close… Disappointment strains behind his voice, and as much as he attempts to mask it with a false tone of understanding, Rachel is a seasoned professional; she spots the undertones in a heartbeat, "What… what does that mean again?"

"It just… it just means that I don't really have much of an immune system right now," Rachel tilts her head down in an effort to mask the frown that has since spread from her face as she forces Finn into the hallway, desperate to get moving under the false pretense that things may be different out here in the open than they were cramped inside of that room…

She remains vague, dropping hints left and right towards the notion that she does not want to be discussing her blood counts, her disease with her boyfriend right now… This is not something that normal couples did, and when Finn did come around to the hospital, for at least a couple of hours a day, Rachel liked to find herself at least able to _pretend_ that she was a normal girl in a normal relationship.

"I thought that the whole point of chemotherapy was to make sure that your immune system got better again… That you didn't have cancer anymore." Finn did not seem to be understanding, but in all honesty, she struggles to believe that she ever expected him to actually do so… He is bound to be confused, Rachel didn't blame him for that, she had just hoped that this confusion would entice increasing silence… not curiosity.

"It has to get worse before it gets better…" Rachel explains as they round the circular hallway arm-in-arm, Rachel moving with purposefully slow motions as they pass through inpatient units, each with their doors sealed firmly shut, tragedies all locked safely inside as if not to permeate on the rest for fear of their swelling, collecting, coagulating together in the formation of one, massive super-tragedy…

As if this floor wasn't already depressing enough.

It was quiet today… Rachel had noticed that activity around here was always hit or miss… Either the floor was swarming with busy child life teams, hustling to round up the younger children, providing them with brand new toys or an opportunity to take pictures with celebrities and athletes simply for promotional purposes, or it looked like a scene from some old ghost town.

It was almost as if they all had their good days at the same time, but they also all had their bad days at the same time as well… Not even the nursing staff was in any sort of mood for conversation, all slipping silently from room to room, trying desperately to commit to nothing more than completing their assigned duties.

"That doesn't make any sense." Finn arches his brows is confusion as they round past the silent nursing station… The hallway is so quiet that the only thing that they can hear is the clicking of the receptionists' fingertips as she types against the keyboard at the front computer… If it wasn't for the light streaming inside of the single window leading towards the outside that this hallway provided to them, Rachel would have been thoroughly convinced that it was the middle of the night…

"No," Rachel sighs after but a momentary silence, agreeing with Finn despite her true desire to pull away from this conversation in its entirety, "No, I guess it doesn't."

"Would you mind taking me back to my room, Finn?" The couple completes their first lap about the hallway within the minute mark, and although she had been smitten with excitement towards the idea of getting out of her room mere moments ago, that excitement had quickly dwindled alongside the understanding that out here was no different than it had been in there…

At least in there, she had been comfortable with the familiarity of solitude.

"We just left…" Finn questions Rachel's motives, his face falling with the understanding that maybe his suggestion of getting her out of her room for a bit wasn't as effective as he had initially expected it to be.

"Yeah… but all of this walking is starting to give me a headache." The fib isn't entirely a lie per se… A steady pounding has slowly begun to find itself following each and every step that Rachel takes, and although it is a pain that is not quite crippling yet, experience tells Rachel that at this point, it is only a matter of time.

"Are you okay?" Finn enters into an immediate panic mode that has Rachel inwardly groaning towards the backfiring of her exaggeration of the truth… Finn's arms clamp downwards, they begin to clutch onto Rachel's even tighter, he appears to be practically carrying her back inside of her hospital room, "Do you want me to like… go get a doctor or something?"

"No…" Rachel forces Finn to loosen his grip, proving her ability to walk on her own accord as she pushes ahead of Finn, walking as far forward as she possibly could with him still grasping to the opposite end of the IV pole currently attached to her chest, "No, I'll be okay."

They round back inside of her room, bee-lining straight for her bed, not particularly wanting to confine herself to the small mattress once more, but at this point, seeing no honest way around it… Rachel had begun growing tired of wallowing in her depression of solitude a long time ago, but lately it seemed as if she was running out of ideas fast.

"You know, I may not be able to kiss you right now, but maybe we can just lay here… for a little while, at least…" Rachel risks making the first move, alongside the desperate hope that maybe simply laying here – just the two of them – would be enough in itself for right now.

"Okay," Finn pauses in his nervous fidgeting with his own hands as he offers her his famous lopsided smirk… She almost forgets her disappointment in their failed attempt at a productive walk before ultimately finding satisfaction in the idea that this was her intentions all along…

Finn crawls forwards, moving with a slow, careful precaution that Rachel has never before seen from the normally clumsy teen, squeezing the two together in the already cramped hospital bed, arms wrapped about the back of Rachel's shoulders, pulling her closely into him, allowing her to bury her head deep inside of the crook between Finn's neck and his shoulder…

Rachel closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, his dull scent, finding herself able to relax for the first time since she had woken up this morning…

At least for now, she is starting to think that if this is the alternative, Rachel would prefer to never be rescued.

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><p>"<em>Come on," Rachel suppresses a giggle as she grabs Finn's elbow and guides him towards the living room of her home, taking the long way about the house for fear of giving her mother the opportunity to spy…<em>

_ It isn't as if she is not grateful that Finn had showed up on her doorstep at dawn, grasping at a bouquet of flowers that looked more as though they were pulled from his mother's garden than bought at a store – a measure of luck designated to support her through her first, grueling day of chemotherapy – but suddenly, Rachel finds herself nervous regarding the ripple effect of what Finn's visit might impart upon her and her family in the long run…_

_ "I, uh… I got these for you…" Finn extends the flowers towards her, his hands trembling as he releases the white knuckled grasp that he's had on the flowers' stems, revealing their since crushed and deformed stems, "I guess that I just wanted to wish you luck and let you know that if you ever needed somebody to talk to, that I'll always be here…"_

_ "Thank you, Finn…" Rachel's voice is barely above a whisper, yet still, she is sincere as she accepts his hand-picked gift, rolling the rounded stems briefly between her palms as she feels herself involuntarily retreated back into her typically awkward, teenage self; unable to designate an appropriate reaction towards the romantic chemistry that seeps between her and Finn; not for the first time, and hopefully not for the last either._

_ Rachel bids her time spent in tense silence by shifting uncomfortably in her seat, her hips slanting instinctively closer into Finn's own as the boy coughs forcibly before moving himself as well…_

_In the opposite direction._

"_Your, uh… your mom is watching us, Rach…" Finn nods his head, attempting to be conspicuous as he points towards the corner separating the living room from the kitchen… _

_ Rachel risks eyeing the area, her eyes glancing upwards and over Finn's broad shoulders where certainly enough, there is both her mother and her aunt, heads peered from beyond the corner like a group of children sneaking downstairs on Christmas Eve trying to capture a glimpse of Santa Claus…_

_ "It's okay…" Rachel laughs through a slight shake of her head as she leans backwards against the couch, confused in that she feels an increased relaxation in regards to the situation now that she knows that it is not just her and Finn, "My Aunt Krista will keep my mom at bay, she's just curious…"_

_ "Yeah, okay…" Finn smirks; a boyish smile that fuels his motions closer into Rachel as he wraps his arm about Rachel's shoulders… The teens lean even further into each other, relaxing against familiar skin, breathing with a sigh of relief towards the idea that the hardest part was over._

"_I meant what I said, you know…" Finn insists after a brief bout of silence, and Rachel can feel his chest swelling with confidence now that her miniscule body weight was bearing down on top of it, "I want to be here for you while you're going through all of this…"_

_ Rachel tries to smile, she tries to feel good about herself, about this seemingly remarkable situation, but suddenly, the reminder of where she was and who it was that she was with offers her reservations towards the idea that maybe, this really was too good to be true… _

_Reservations that Rachel can't help but to address…_

"_Did my brother put you up to this?" Rachel demands answers alongside her need to clarify things before she allowed herself to raise her hopes, because as highly unlikely as it was that Noah had placed a request for his best friend to show up to their doorstep at six o'clock in the morning with flowers for his little sister as he flirted with her in an effort to take the burden off her up-incoming chemotherapy session, Rachel still couldn't find it in her heart to ever believe that a person could ever take such interest in a hopeless wretch like herself._

_ "You," Finn doesn't hesitate in his answer, "I like you, Rachel… like… a lot… I guess that I just learned to keep my feelings under wraps for all of these years, you know, for Noah… It's moments like this that remind me that life's too short, you know?" Finn offers his confession, fingers crossed and breath held for some sense of reciprocation in the matter… _

_Or at the very least, for her to as much as contemplate the chemistry between the two._

"_Yeah, I know…" Rachel considers Finn's words, she sweeps them upwards, hoarding them into her chest so that she can positively breathe them, identify their meaning, and all at once, she decides that he is right without any sense of reasonable doubt… Life was much too short; Rachel knew that more than anybody. _

_ Suddenly, she did not care whether or not her mother or her aunt or even her brother was watching her… Suddenly, she did not care that she had cancer, hell, she didn't even care that she was currently dying as they speak… _

_Instead, Rachel simply cared about this moment, about right here, right now… The only thing in the entirety of this world that Rachel could focus on was her desire to lean upwards, to tilt her head upwards and into the air, and to connect her lips tightly against those of Finn Hudson…_

_So that is exactly what she did._

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><p>They don't speak for several minutes, and mostly, Rachel just finds herself lucky that they don't have to, because she is more than comfortable in her silence, pressed up against Finn's body, leaning into his touch as he rubs his hand gently up and down her upper arm in a perpetually comforting motion.<p>

Rachel is so relaxed, she is so swallowed inside of the idea that she could stay like this forever that the simple reminder that she literally _cannot_ do so is enough to make it so that she almost wishes that she had never started this at all.

"I want to tell Noah…" Rachel's confounding emotions tangle desperately inside of her chest, pushing out a confession that not even she is entirely certain is a particularly good idea straight out of her lungs.

Finn's hand stops abruptly in its motions against Rachel's skin, confirming the lingering thought that maybe, she should have just kept silent all along… Her throat is closing with the tension already; it feels as though an elephant has suddenly made home on top of her very chest as she finds herself burdened with the idea that she could only assume that she did not want to take this remarkable feeling straight down and into her very grave.

"About us, I mean…" Rachel sighs, her voice is remarkably less confident, but she had started this conversation, now there was no choice other than to finish it, "I can't hide this from him anymore, Finn… And who knows, maybe he won't be mad after all… Maybe… maybe he'll understand where we're both coming from with everything that is going on lately."

"I don't know, Rach…" He makes his hesitancy immediately known… It is the most confidence that he has spoken with all day.

"I just… I can't live with this secret anymore, Finn…" Rachel pleads her case, feeling like a damn lawyer trying to defend her innocence in a court of law, while the entirety of the world around her pointed towards undoubted guilt, "But I can't do this unless you do it with me."

"Okay…" Finn sighs, his voice slipping up once more; a steep slope that tells Rachel that he is still not entirely convinced, no matter how much Rachel seemingly was, "If this is really what you want, than it must be a good idea."

The two sink into a silence… Rachel's mind is spinning, and she is certain that Finn's is doing the exact same thing… How the hell were they supposed to go about doing this? What the hell had they been thinking?

"We should probably wait until he gets out of court today…" Finn seems to be reading Rachel's mind as he speaks exactly what it is that she is currently thinking.

Rachel chooses not to answer Finn with a verbal sentiment; instead, she takes a deep breath and nods her head against his body, embracing what she has while she still has it, because come tomorrow, with Noah's court case behind them, Rachel knows that there will be hell to pay.

"Thank you…" Rachel whispers gently, trying her best to express how much Finn's support truly means to her by burying her head even deeper inside of his chest, "For being so understanding."

"You're welcome…" Finn reciprocates, his hand tightening about her shoulder once more as he brings her closer into him; the motion ultimately backfiring as her stomach twists in a manner that it does not agree with, sending her abdominal muscles into abrupt spasms, the tissue beneath her taut skin twisting painfully about herself, forcing Rachel into a fetal position as she groans in her pain, teeth clenching so hard, that she fears that they will positively crack…

"What is it?" Finn leaps upwards from the bed, the loss of contact leaving Rachel craving more, torn between beckoning Finn back to her and cradling her throbbing midsection, "Are you okay? Do you… do you have to throw up or something?"

"No…" Rachel struggles to force the single syllable from her mouth as her stomach slowly begins to retreat backwards and inside of itself; a false alarm produced by her muscles revolting against the chronic dehydration and malnutrition that they have still yet to grow entirely used to, "I'm okay Finn… This is just… I get these cramps sometimes."

Rachel's breathing slows gradually, heavy and labored as sharp pains become lingering throbs; a few seconds of unbearable pain rapidly becoming nothing more than a reminder of what happens when illness has Rachel refusing meals and drink for days at a time…

"Are you… are you okay now?"

"Yeah…" Rachel feels Finn tense besides her in a manner that Rachel can't help but to retreat naturally away from… She is nervous; suddenly terrified of getting too close; this minor hiccup flooding her with the fear that Finn was not prepared, that he is not ready to deal with something to this extent, to this extreme; something so real, something that can turn on an absolute dime.

Her; well Rachel has been running for quite some time now… She has found herself maimed and broken and beaten to the point that she practically considered herself immune to the concept of death as an absolute whole… And while she understands that not everybody was the same, the idea that Finn could not handle this like she needed him to, well it killed her.

Because while most people were afraid of the world that was inside of here, these days, Rachel saw nothing more than a raging, vengeful Earth on the outside… It scared her, the idea of getting lost out there, and more so, she is suddenly terrified that while her deepest fear was what was on the outside, Finn's might be what was on the in.

"Hey… what is it?" Finn nudges her, pushing for answers that she could not possibly find a means by which to verbally describe…

"What happens if you can't carry me?" She forces herself to ask the question although she grows hesitant of the answer.

"I will always be able to carry you." Finn promises, but Rachel cannot seem to bringer herself to believe him in his entirety… He does not know how bad it can get within these walls, he doesn't understand that a failed walk about the hallway, and a brief stomach cramp was just the beginning…

"Yeah, but what if you can't?" Rachel is persistent only because she knows that she needs to be… She carefully avoids Finn's eyes, toying with his massive hands as they rest upon her shoulder.

"Then we'll both just have to learn how to fly."

She doesn't respond, but then again, Rachel doesn't believe that Finn is particularly expecting her to… Instead, the two fall into a heavy, unsettling silence once more…

As it was, Rachel can't help but to notice the awkward tension suddenly lingering between her and Finn as she attempts to bury herself deeply inside of his chest once more.

"Hey Rachel, I'm sorry I'm late but I…"

Rachel has just closed her eyes, has just forced herself to grow comfortable against the soft fabric of Finn's t-shirt once more when the familiar voice had her shooting upwards once more, her muscles tensing in a manner that forces the still lingering pain deep within her abdomen to spark into near agony once more.

Her mother is silenced in her surprise; she had been clearly expecting to see Rachel and _only_ Rachel as she rounded into her daughter's hospital room… At least she had definitely not expected to see Rachel inside of the arms of a boy that had been a part of their family for years now…

The woman stumbles, she swallows her own words, choking on them violently as she damn near spills the cup of coffee that she is holding all over the freshly pressed dress that she is planning on defending her son in later that very morning…

"Um… I should… I should go…" Finn scrambles instantaneously, exhibiting a notion of profound discomfort towards the idea that Shelby had just walked in on the resting couple… He is on his feet within a matter of seconds, stuffing his feet inside of his shoes as he struggles to commit to the action and rush towards the door at the same time… "I'll be back a little bit later," Finn professes this promise towards Rachel, silenced in her disappointment as he leans forwards to offer a lingering kiss to the top of her balding head, "I have to get to school anyway… Goodbye, Rachel."

"Not goodbye…" Rachel corrects him quietly, forcing the boy to pause amidst his scrambling, his eyes snaking upwards towards her, "I don't like goodbyes."

"Okay…" He nods in his complacent agreement, standing upwards to meet his full, massive height. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Rachel nods, her mouth turning upwards to a soft smile, "I'll see you later."

His feet shuffle quickly towards the lone exit; Rachel can't help but to notice that his eyes never actually tilt upwards from the floor below to meet those of her mother as he rushes past her…

"Bye, Mrs. Corcoran…" His quick mutterings quickly become the only indication that he had so much as seen her, but Finn is out of the door before he can so much as finish his sentence… Shelby doesn't bother to respond; he is long gone before she would so much as have the opportunity… In fact, Shelby doesn't bother to say much of anything for several moments; instead, she eyes her daughter, brows cocked and eyes wide, providing Rachel with that fearful, warning glance that the girl knows so well.

"Where's Noah?" Rachel coughs, taking advantage of Shelby's inability to immediately procure something by which to say in response to what it was that she had just walked in on by attempting to shift away from the subject entirely.

"He's on his way; he decided to take his own car…" Shelby nods, her tone indicative of the idea that she recognizes what it was that Rachel is trying to do, and that it is not going to work; not this time, "Of course, that's probably for the best seeing as it most likely would not be in Noah's best interest right now to find his best friend in his sister's hospital bed with her right now…"

Rachel practically chokes on her mother's bluntness, falling into a stony silence alongside the understanding that there was absolutely nothing that she could say right now… Her mother was, after all, right; they were being careless, stupid… If Noah had walked in on them at any point today, the idea that he was currently en route to court facing an aggravated assault charge would have been the least of his worries.

"You need to be more careful, Rachel." Shelby sighs, her tone drifting in a manner that Rachel had heard enough times to understand that she was about to get a lecture, "You need to be focusing on yourself right now and that is it…"

"It will be fine, mom…" Rachel breathes a sigh of frustration towards the idea that she has to defend Finn Hudson to her mother of all people, "You know Finn, he's been like a member of our family since we were kids, you know that he's a good guy and you've always liked him…"

"That's not the point, Rachel," Shelby sighs, shaking her head alongside Rachel's inability to see what presents to Shelby as obvious, "Finn could be the damn president of the United States and I would be saying the same thing… Right now, you need to concentrate on your health and your health _only_."

"But I still need something that can take my mind off of things sometimes!" Rachel argues, trying to ignore her mother's reaction as the older woman closes her eyes and waves off her daughter as if to indicate that this is an invalid argument, "And Finn is the only one it seems that's interested in helping me to do that!"

"But still, Rachel, I don't think that you are understanding what the potential consequences of your choices may be," Shelby is just as persistent as Rachel; a genetically prescribed inability to lose an argument passed from mother to daughter, "Listen, it was a cute gesture when Finn came to our door that morning with a few flowers, but this… this is different; it isn't just a cute and innocent high school romance that you could have had before."

"It's fine, mom!" Rachel raises her voice through a short, sarcastic laugh, "I need this okay? It's the only thing that I have that can make me just feel like a normal kid again."

"The problem is you aren't a normal kid anymore, Rachel!"

The two identical women fall silent, Shelby's eyes widening immediately with the reality of the words that she had just spoken the second that they fall from her mouth; a lifetime's worth of frustration spilling from her lips in the form of the cold, hard truth…

The quiet builds like a stone wall between them, and the longer it lasts, the more that it seems to hurt.

"I'm sorry," Shelby finally mutters, "I shouldn't have said that to you, Rachel… I'm sorry."

"No, you have a point." Rachel shakes off her mother's unnecessary apology, "But mom, you have to remember that I'm not four years old this time around… I can still do the things that I want with whoever I want…" She begs vaguely for at least a fraction of her prized independence back once more, professing her desires in a fashion entirely understandable for that of a fifteen year old girl…

Now if only they could pretend as if they weren't arguing within the walls of a cramped hospital room, the terms revolving about Rachel's chemotherapy treatments…

"That isn't how things work, Rachel and I know that you know that…" Shelby shakes her head softly and Rachel has to actively try to suppress the scoff that forms against the back of her throat…She knew that, of course she knew that; Rachel wasn't a moron, she was simply exhibiting a slight tone of rebellion formulating from the idea that she simply _wished_ that that was how things worked…

Her family was the only one that she had ever known that could stare inside of a crystal ball, yet still only see the past and she was tired of it…

"I need some sort of a sense of normalcy, mom…" Rachel is pleading, begging Shelby to identify something that might provide her with such normalcy seeing as she so disapproved of the means by which Rachel had found for herself. "I'm sick… I'm sick and I'm tired of looking it, there's no hiding it… Every single person that I see walks around me as if they will break me if they so much as get too close… everybody except for Finn."

"I don't think you're understanding what it is that I'm trying to explain to you, Rachel!" Frustration seeps through the every syllable of Shelby's words as she practically begs her daughter to simply start seeing things as she does herself, "Your blood counts have been low for days now, you shouldn't be getting that close to anybody who doesn't understand the proper protocol for isolation precautions, anything, and I mean _anything_ can get you sick right now, and you know as well as I do that coming back from an infection immediately off of chemo is not going to be easy… Hell, it might even be downright impossible."

"Thanks mom, I wasn't sure how that worked." Rachel spits sarcastically, "You do realize that _I'm_ the one that is sick here, not you, right?"

"Don't get snarky with me, Rachel." Shelby's voice raises significantly… Fighting with Rachel is the absolute last thing that the already overwhelmed mother needs right now; Rachel knows this, she knows this because fighting with her mother is the absolute last thing that Rachel needs right now as well… Now if she could only bring herself to stop. "I get that you're sick, okay? I get that you're tired and that you want nothing more than to have things go back to normal…But you are not the only person that has to go through this right now; we all do, Rachel, don't forget that."

Rachel's face remains stone… She wants to nod her head, she wants to tell her mother that she knows this; of course she knows this, but the words don't seem to come… they never do.

"Are you and Finn having sex?"

"Mom!" Rachel chokes on her surprise towards this seemingly out of the blue question, her face flushing red with embarrassment as Shelby crosses into an uncharted territory of conversation that Rachel just wishes more than anything, they could have stayed out of permanently.

"Has he?" Shelby pushes for an answer, making it entirely obvious that she will not be satisfied until Rachel provides her with a sense of the truth. "Because as I'm sure you know, even kissing somebody right now is dangerous, Rachel… Sex… well sex is completely out of the question."

"Oh my God…" Rachel groans, burying her face inside of her hands in an effort to use the darkness provided by her palms to help convince her that she was anywhere but here… But Shelby is persistent; she makes her presence well known – even in Rachel's self-induced blindness – with an incessant tapping of her feet against the tile, calling for her daughter's name in her demanding of some answers, "If you really must know, mother, Finn and I haven't even discussed… _that_ yet. We've barely even been dating three weeks!"

"Do you promise?" Shelby's eyes drill a well pronounced hole into the back of Rachel's head; the girl can feel them even with her eyes firmly closed. "Because Rachel, I know that even in these circumstances, you're still at an age where a lot of your friends are going to start having sex… maybe they even already have… But that doesn't mean that you need to do it too, or that you have to listen to anybody if they tell you that you have to."

"Mom, please…" Rachel begs in her mortification, trying to bury her face, if possible, even further into her hands, "Can we not do this right now?"

"I just want you to understand that sex is a very special experience, Rachel…" Shelby is blatantly ignoring each and every one of Rachel's requests for silence in her continuing to attempt and embarrass her daughter as much as humanly possible, "It's sacred, it's a subject that I don't want you to take lightly."

Rachel can only groan in her response… She does not want to think about this, she does not want to talk about it; especially not with her mother… Rachel recognizes an immediate need to change this subject and to do so fast… She searches her brain, her mind scrambling for an appropriate means of a topic change; something that can effectively distract Shelby, something that will bury this thing forever into the ground.

"My hair is falling out."

Her tactic works like a charm; Shelby falls silent instantly, forcing Rachel to suppress an inward groan… She did not want to be having this conversation with her mother, not yet anyway; but despite her previous notion that she had wanted to keep this a secret as long as possible, she is at least grateful for the opportunity to stop Shelby's attempt towards a sex talk straight in its path.

"I'm sorry…" Shelby's eyes slant upwards; trying desperately to be discrete as she eyes Rachel's poorly disguised receding hairline; more obvious now that the mother was not so otherwise distracted, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The girl shakes her head slowly, falling further backwards into her bed as her mother eyes her with remorse, forcing her to immediately regret getting so testy with the woman that has done so much for her… All the time that Rachel had spent keeping a score today, she had almost forgotten what the true meaning behind unconditional love actually was… For Shelby to provide her with anything that she has ever needed, to know all of the answers, yet still humor her child by asking her the question why, by striving to raise the very sky for either her or Noah…

Guilt wracks the entirety of her body… Rachel Corcoran is quickly growing tired of living like this.

"There's nothing to talk about," Rachel insists, although her tone tells Shelby that clearly, there is a lot to talk about, Rachel just doesn't want to right now, "We all knew that it would happen eventually… It's stupid to get so upset over the inevitable."

"It's not stupid, Rach," Shelby's tone is remarkably gentler than that which she had previously enacted upon her daughter, "This is a huge part of everything that you're going through… Feeling upset right now, it's not about being vain or weak… It's about the fact that you are starting to _look_ sick on top of already feeling it… It upset you when you were four years old; it's okay that it upsets you now too…"

"I don't remember," Rachel shakes her head gently, "The last time, I mean…" Rachel sniffles heavily, retreats a suppressed sob back inside of her chest; suddenly, her mother's role in all of this is striking her like a blow to the head… Rachel had spent all of this time wallowing in her isolation, and yes, Rachel_ had_ been the one that had been sick the last time, and yes, Rachel _was_ the one that was sick this time as well, but her past is distant to her, vague even…

Shelby remembers; Rachel knows that her mother must remember every day, every detail of before… Yes, Rachel may be being forced to do this twice, but hell, so was Shelby… Rachel hadn't even considered how hard this would be for her mother, her brother as well as her.

Suddenly, Rachel is feeling undyingly selfish.

"That's okay," Shelby assures Rachel gently; but Rachel cannot help but to disagree; it's not okay, it never will be.

"I'm not ready to talk about it," Rachel insists alongside her fear towards being unable to bring herself to stop speaking once given the opportunity to start… Shelby has enough to worry about without Rachel spilling all of her darkest secrets onto her right now.

"Okay," Shelby nods, but her eyes profess a clear desire for Rachel to open up to her, to speak the thoughts that are clearly festering painfully within the inner most depths of her mind, "But I'll be here for you when you are, okay?"

"Yeah," Rachel nods curtly, providing Shelby with her empty promise… Sure, she is willing to try and force herself to be ready to talk, but truthfully, she is certain that this moment will never come.

"Hey…" Noah walks hesitantly into the room with moments to spare and Rachel takes a deep breath of relief alongside the notion that she has been saved… for now.

Her brother is already wearing his suit and tie, professional and prepared for his upcoming court date… He tries to sound casual as he greets his mother and sister, but Rachel can hear his nerves through his very voice, can see the paleness across his features, the permanent layer of sweat beading across his forehead…

"Hi, Noah," Shelby's voice is barely above a whisper, her eyes never leave Rachel's as the younger girl begins to fidget awkwardly with her fingers in a manner that Rachel knows, must be screaming at Noah, the notion that her and their mother had previously been holding a conversation that neither wants him to hear.

"What's going on?" Noah speaks tentatively, confirming Rachel's previous thoughts as Shelby's eyes begin to shift rapidly back and forth between her two children, clearly unsure of how much of the details Rachel would like Noah to know… They have to tell him something, both know this, and to do so sooner would be a lot more believable than later, so Rachel simply shrugs her shoulders, acting as casually as she can possibly muster as she provides him with as much of the truth as she is willing to tell him at the moment.

"My hair is starting to fall out." It is not a lie in its entirety, but still, everything that Rachel is leaving out of her brief explanation is everything that burns straight through her.

"Oh…" His response is distant, uninterested; Rachel cannot help to notice that it is very characteristic of the means by which Noah has been speaking with her as of late… Rachel attempts to convince herself that this is nothing to be concerned over, that the tension of his upcoming trial, adjusting to this new life is to blame, that everything will be back to normal in no time… But even she can only convince herself of this for so long.

Rachel would be lying if she said that she wasn't starting to miss her big brother… She isn't entirely certain how much longer she can live like this.

"We should get going soon, mom…" Noah acts only to intensify Rachel's fears as he professes his desire not to linger, to not say barely so much as a hello to his sister, "We're going to be late if we don't hurry up."

Rachel glances upwards towards the clock… Noah still has an hour before he has to be at the court house a mere fifteen minutes away… Rachel is just starting to wonder why it was that he'd even bothered coming here in the first place when Shelby silently nods in her approval, shuffling in motions indicative of her willing preparedness to leave.

"Good luck, Noah…" Rachel offers her sentiments, but he barely so much as returns it with a short nod before turning outwards from the room… in and out faster than it had taken him to so much as drive here.

"I'll be right behind you, Noah…" Shelby calls after her son but Noah makes no indication that he had actually heard her… And who knows, Noah is so long gone by the time Shelby so much as speaks, that he probably didn't.

"Don't worry about Noah, Rach." Shelby reads her daughter's thoughts, assuring the girl the second that she is certain that her son was safely out of ear shot, "He's just nervous about today is all… I promise that as soon as this is all in the past, he will be right back to his normal self."

"I'm not so sure about that one, mom…" Rachel allows her fears to be known, expressing herself to her mother with a sense of absolute honesty for the first time all day, "I'm worried about him."

"Hey, I don't want you to worry okay," Shelby's hand reaches outwards instinctively, her hand wiping naturally across the type of the girl's head in a manner that Rachel can't help but to lean into, "That's my job… It's my job to worry about both Noah and about you too, so you just let me do my job, okay? Trust me, you're getting off easy."

"I'll try." Rachel makes the best promise that she can offer.

"That's a start," Shelby smiles through an assuring shrug.

"I'm afraid mom," Rachel finally admits alongside a shaky exhale and a steady shake of her head, "I'm afraid that something really bad is going to happen to them."

"Oh honey, that's what being a sister is…" Shelby assures her, her breathing growing somberly irregular as her eyes fall downwards… She looks as if she has fallen permanently saddened, and Rachel suddenly can't help but to wonder whether or not she will ever see a member of her family truly smile ever again. "I'll be back a little bit later… I promise that I will call you the second that he gets out, okay?"

"Yeah…" Rachel nods, her eyes traveling downwards towards her hands as she grows embarrassed towards the idea that the only thing in this world that she wants to do right now is to hold her mother and never let her go ever again, and impossibly angered that this is simply not possible.

"I love you," Shelby lingers in the doorway, waiting as she watches Rachel carefully, her eyes boring into the girl as she searches for a means of reciprocation for her actions.

"Yeah," Rachel nods shortly, trying to satisfy a justification for their need towards departure more than anything else, "I love you too."

* * *

><p>Rachel Corcoran has been prone to bizarre dreams lately.<p>

In all honesty, she's struggled to tell whether or not it is her own racing thoughts or her constant cocktail of drugs making her feel as though she is losing her very mind, but whatever the cause, one thing was for damn certain… Rachel Corcoran has been prone to bizarre dreams lately.

But there is one in particular that strikes her harder than any other, swells within her, a sense of regret and fear that not even her diminished consciousness can block out in its entirety.

She can never pinpoint its distant familiarity, but still, each and every time it recurs, the sense of déjà vu strikes her like a bullet to the chest…

She is lost. She is floating about inside of a pit of darkness that reminds her of being stuck in outer space, and as much as it hurts to know that she is so very desperately alone, at the same time, she is confounded with a sense of warmth, or familiarity…

Her conscience is constantly screaming at her, speaking with the reminder that this is her future, that the only means by which she will ever find freedom again is through death, and the second this realization strikes her – that maybe she truly is dead after all – that warm, familiar territory becomes abruptly less inviting.

Instead, she is suddenly cold, the freezing air becomes still and silent all around her, and despite the idea that she had indeed been by herself this entire time, it only strikes her at this precise moment, just how utterly alone she is now.

The moment that Rachel shoots upwards inside of her bed; panting heavily and spine painfully stiff, she knows that she has allowed herself to have that dream yet again…

Her new features permeate slowly into her tired eyes… It is no longer dark; instead, the mid-afternoon sun streams into her eyes, and although the world around her is fuzzy with sleep, she gradually manages to make out the familiar details of the hospital room surrounding her.

A thin layer of sweat mats the hair that she does have left down across her forehead as her chest begins to heave with labored breaths… Continuously wrapped inside of the panic of her dream, suddenly it seems as if the only thing that could possibly make this nightmare even worse was waking up only to find that even in reality, she was just as alone as she had perceived in her sleep.

Her ears are poised but her eardrums strain with the buzz of pure silence… She is listening for a sound, so much as a hint of any noise at all, but around her there is nothing… The harder that Rachel concentrates, the more it seems as if it were a century ago that she would wake up every morning to the world singing all around her… These days, it is obvious that she can't hear much of anything anymore.

Rachel begs herself to not allow this feeling to win, that the single purpose of every nightmare is one with but a single directive; to remind you that you are indeed lost, stuck inside of time itself with the ultimate fear eventually narrowing down to the idea that we are all scared to death to die…

The sunlight warms her briefly, helps provide her with a sense of comfort, but the reminder that Rachel will not be knowing the real meaning behind a truly nice day for quite some time now is enough to eliminate this sense all over again.

A sharp knock at her door sends Rachel into a sudden panic; with her senses heightened so dramatically, she jumps straight upwards and into the air, falling out of her very skin at the sudden noise as her hand jolts upwards and against her chest in an effort to ease the pains of her frantically racing heart.

_Calm down, Rachel,_ The girl speaks silently inside of her own head, begging her body to listen as she attempts to convince herself that she is being ridiculous…

Rachel turns towards the source of the noise, finding immediately that the identification does absolute nothing to help to convince her that she was not losing her mind in its entirety, because there were only two plausible explanations as to why it was Quinn Fabray was standing inside of her doorway, looking remarkably unsure as to whether or not she should wander any further forwards – either she was still dreaming, or she was hallucinating.

"Is um… is this a bad time, because I can come back later if it is…" Quinn identifies the tension that Rachel's reaction towards seeing her has created, pausing uncomfortably in the space between the hallway and the actual room.

"No," Rachel makes the attempt towards shaking her head against Quinn's acknowledgment that she was the absolute last person that Rachel had ever expected showing up at her door, "No, it's fine, come in."

"Are you sure… I mean, it's just that… you don't look so good." Rachel sighs in her disappointment towards Quinn's clearly faux concern, her brows slowly raising as if to silently ask the blonde whether or not she was serious with that question… Of course, it doesn't take Rachel very long to remember that Finn had asked her the exact same question not so much earlier that morning…

And even then, Finn didn't even have the excuse of having just walked in on Rachel, fresh from waking up in a terrified panic.

"I'm sorry…" Quinn quickly shakes aside her own question, mentally slapping herself as she realizes exactly what it was that she had just asked, "That was a stupid question.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel cuts abruptly to the point; she doesn't necessarily mean to sound so rude towards the girl that deserves nothing more – in her humble opinion – Rachel is understandably defensive, she is simply not in the mood for whatever it is that Quinn Fabray has to dish out to her today.

"I just wanted to stop by and… I don't know check up on you or something," Quinn shrugs, rocking gently against her own two feet, pouring the entirety of her concentration into the tips of her feet as she attempts to bury her toes clear beneath the tile, "I know that a lot of us haven't exactly been around lately…"

"I don't… I'm sorry, I think that I might be missing something here…" Rachel grows understandably confused… After all, it wasn't exactly a secret to either girl that the two weren't exactly friends, and besides their one single, incredibly random conversation that had taken place weeks ago inside of a bathroom at William McKinley High School, they had barely spoken so much as two words to each other… unless of course, those two words had been spoken out of pure spite.

"Listen, I… I was a bitch to you, okay?" Quinn forces what Rachel perceives as Quinn Fabray's attempt towards an apology from her mouth, "I was a bitch because I thought that I had to be just so that I could keep an edge on everybody around me… I didn't understand that until it all caught up with me, until I started abusing that power… I destroyed everything around me, Rachel… I don't have any more moves."

"Thank you…?" Rachel's motion of gratitude is emitted as more of a question than what the brunette would have wanted, but Rachel can't help it… Seeing Quinn Fabray of all people standing so defeated in the center of her hospital room has understandably taken her off guard; she doesn't even realize that she is speaking until the words have already fallen from her mouth, "But can I ask you something?"

"Sure…" Quinn takes Rachel's opening of the conversation as a silent invitation, risking a handful of extra steps slightly further and into the room.

"Why now?"

"Who are we to argue fate, Rachel?" Rachel's eyebrows raise so high that she is certain that Quinn can no longer so much as see them lost inside of her messy tuft of hair. Her jaw slackens, mouth opening with complete confusion as to why Quinn was standing before her choosing now of all times to explore her philosophical side.

"Are you high right now or something?" Not for the first time amidst their brief conversation does Rachel regret her rudeness, but the inquiry isn't meant to be perceived as sarcastic… It is the only explanation that Rachel can come up with that would explain Quinn's less than characteristic behavior.

"No," Quinn simply laughs Rachel's question off, shaking her head gently as she rolls along with the motions, "I'm just starting to realize that you and me both seem to be the only people around here that understand that we don't have the time to sit around and wait for something to happen… Look at me Rachel; I came here today with absolutely nothing left to lose."

"Is this like… some sort of weird Quinn Fabray style apology that I don't know about or something?" Rachel is understandably hesitant; she finds it remarkably difficult to trust a person that has made her life such a living hell these past several years… She struggles to see any way around the idea that this is all one, giant joke and that she is the only person that doesn't understand its punch line.

"I lost everything after Finn left me, okay?" Rachel's heart constricts… So this is what this was all about; Quinn wasn't here to offer Rachel an apology, she was here to put her in her place for getting together with Finn so soon after he'd broken up with her, "He exposed me for who I was… a heartless bitch," Quinn smiles, but the motion never truly reaches her eyes, "My friends want nothing to do with me now that I'm not dating the quarterback of the football team and that I've been kicked off of the Cheerios for siding with the glee club."

"So then why don't you just quit glee?" Out of the million or so questions that Rachel has for Quinn right now, this is the first that slips seemingly naturally from between her lips; an honest inquiry, the one that deep down, she truly wants the answer to the most.

"Maybe we're both finally starting to wake up…" Quinn shrugs casually amidst a small smirk that Rachel can't help but to return as her eyebrows arch once more… She is growing more and more confused by the second, but slowly, she is starting not to mind this so much anymore.

"What does that mean?" Rachel asks the blonde before her.

"It means that I can really use somebody to talk to right about now," Quinn solidifies what seems to have been her point all along, sitting herself down on the chair besides Rachel's bed; the chair that Shelby had all but turned into her new, permanent bed in recent weeks, "And I have a feeling that you can probably use some of the same… Even if you don't, I was kind of hoping that maybe you would be willing to sit around and listen to me whine about my problems for a little while."

"Okay…" Rachel concedes easily, although she can't help to wonder why it is that she is so easily comforted by the idea of Quinn Fabray spilling her darkest of secrets onto her, and vice versa.

"Can I ask you a question first?" Quinn leans forwards, closer into Rachel; elbows rested upon her knees as she cradles her chin inside of her palms, staring upwards towards the slightly older girl before her.

"As long as we're being honest with each other, I guess."

"Why didn't you ever tell anybody that you were sick like this when you were younger?" Rachel's mouth opens immediately, prepared to execute an ideal, perfectly orchestrated answer, but she freezes before the words are so much as out of her mouth, pausing alongside the idea that there are no more lies to tell.

There is no good answer to this question; the fact of the matter is that she has absolutely no idea why it was that she'd never said anything… Rachel can only assume that the opportunity simply never arose, the timing never perfect… She never had anybody close enough to her to sit around and listen to her sob story other than her family, and well… none of this was news to them.

"You know how it goes, don't you?" Rachel finally settles, "The darker the secret the harder you keep it, right?"

"I guess…" Quinn shrugs, but still, she does not sound convinced, "But you have no reason to keep a secret like that… It's not as if anybody would have hated you for being sick when you were a kid or anything… Hell, they probably would have liked you a lot more."

"Exactly," Rachel swells defiantly as if with one single, simply statement, Quinn seemed to have proven Rachel's own point entirely, "I don't want to be known around here as the sick kid, Quinn… I guess we see how well that turned out…" Rachel pauses; she has absolutely no idea why she had just told Quinn all of this, "Why are you asking me questions about keeping secrets?"

"Because I think that I might be going crazy," The two feed off of each other, one reciprocating the other in their honesty so that Rachel can't help but to feel as if she had never held a truer conversation in all of her life; especially not with Quinn Fabray, "I'm supposed to be a part of this all-American family… You know, with a standard of being rich and perfect; my parents and their 2.4 children, little dog and white picket fence…" Quinn's eyes darken dramatically; never once had Rachel Corcoran seen a human being looking so impossibly sad, "It's miserable, Rachel… I'm miserable. My parents hate each other, and the more they learn to despise each other, the more they learn to despise me too… They hate me; and as much as I hate to say it, I think that I'm starting to hate them to."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Rachel swallows dramatically, grateful for an opportunity to converse with a fellow human being so openly, although still confused; unable to be entirely convinced that all of this is nothing more than some sort of cruel joke.

"If you ever tell this to anybody, I will deny it immediately but… I guess that I'm jealous, Rachel." Quinn tries to joke, as if to ease into the blow of a sense of honesty that Rachel knows must not come entirely so easily, but still, evidence of this truth sweeps and swelters deep inside of her voice all the same, "I'm jealous of your family, of everything that you have."

"Seriously," Rachel chokes, unable to be overcome with that sense that she is being insurmountably rude once more, "Do you not see where it is that I am right now?"

"That's exactly what I mean!" Quinn is adamant in her explanation, using Rachel's very point to defend herself although Rachel continues to find it incredibly difficult to believe that anybody would ever want to be standing inside of her own shoes right about now, "I'm not stupid, Rachel, I see where you are right now and still… I'm jealous."

Rachel lingers in her confusion for but a moment longer when suddenly, her eyes glow with a sudden realization, understanding seeping deep inside of her very pores towards the idea that it wasn't Rachel's situation that Quinn was jealous of, but the means by which she knew she could survive it; the support system that she had…

Quinn's jealousy stemmed from the idea that Rachel had something that Quinn couldn't possibly even dream of… the notion of having somebody who actually cared.

"It's people like us that force people to face all of their fears, huh?" Rachel laughs, surprised with even herself towards the casualness by which this statement slips from her mouth.

"I try to tell myself that even though things are bad, that they can't possibly get any worse," Quinn shakes her head against the very idea, "Then I remember that you're stuck in here, and your brother is being forced to defend himself in court when really, it's David Karofsky that should be put on friggen death row for everything that he said… I have said some pretty terrible things to you, Rachel… I guess that… well I guess that I just had no idea."

"That was a long time ago," Rachel attempts to stifle at least some of Quinn's regrets alongside the understanding that there were plenty more of them other than those that involved Rachel… It seemed as though Quinn Fabray had much more to deal with than anything that Rachel could possibly understand.

And in this sense, she could only guess that maybe, the two girls were not nearly as different as Rachel had originally thought.

"If you count just a few weeks ago as a long time…" Quinn shakes her head in her refusal to accept Rachel's attempts towards making her feel better, vaguely professing that she does indeed understand what it is that Rachel is trying to do, and that while she appreciates it, she deserves worse… much worse.

"I learned a long time ago how to ignore it," Rachel shrugs, "That everything anybody has ever said to me was just a projection of their own misunderstanding."

"How did you figure that out?" Quinn's eyes widen, her chest broadening as she asks Rachel for the answers that she so desperately craves.

"My mom," Rachel simply shrugs; not nearly as definitive an answer as Quinn had been hoping for.

"She must be pretty smart…" Quinn offers, Rachel nodding in an agreement that she definitely could not argue with. "After everything that you guys have been through… Hell, I don't even understand how it is that you guys still manage to get out of bed every morning sometimes."

"Honestly, I don't either sometimes… I guess that you just don't always have a choice is all," Rachel considers her answer; it is one that she has never really considered before, but the more that Quinn speaks, the more she is starting to wonder the exact same thing, "But you know, Santana is already living on our couch… maybe if you wanted to pull up the spot next to her, you could find out."

"I don't think that your mom would be too keen on that idea," Quinn shakes her head, her eyes turning downwards as desire flashes across her features.

"You never know," Rachel shrugs, "She was worried about Santana at first too, but it turns out that she's not actually entirely incompetent around the house."

"Do you really think that your mom would be okay with turning her house into a foster home?"

"My mom tends to be pretty open-minded," Rachel makes her assurance known, but Quinn does not seem to be brought into higher spirits by it, but instead, the exact opposite.

"I'm sorry…" Quinn breathes, waving herself off and turning her eyes away from Rachel in her embarrassment, "I don't mean to rant about myself while really it should be me asking you how it is that you're holding up."

"No, it's fine," Rachel promises Quinn genuinely, "It's a nice change actually… I don't really like to linger on myself for very long these days."

"But… but you're okay, right?" Quinn grimaces alongside the fear that her desire to simply understand will be overshadowed by Rachel's unwillingness to talk about herself, "I mean, everything is… on track or whatever… I'm sorry I guess that I just don't really understand how all of this works is all."

"It's fine…" Rachel assures her, eyeing Quinn carefully as she makes a seemingly stunning observation over Quinn's behavior; or more notably, the lack there of… Rachel is almost relieved to see that Quinn is not fidgeting uncomfortably upon mention of Rachel's being ill… not as Finn did, not as the rest of them did anyway.

"No…" Quinn corrects Rachel's insistencies amidst the impression that the girl was simply just trying to be polite, "No, I shouldn't have asked… I'm sorry."

"I'm on my second cycle of chemo already…" Rachel all but ignores Quinn's apology, delving straight into the blonde's initial question without so much as a second thought, "I don't know… I… I guess that it's going well. The drugs that I'm on are a little bit stronger than the first time because this is a relapse, so apparently, it makes the cancer a little bit more difficult to treat on principle… I don't really know, sometimes I don't truly understand how any of this works either… Don't be sorry, Quinn," Rachel finally breathes, "We race through this life… It takes a lot to remember that time can be unforgiving, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Quinn raises a careful eyebrow, looking remarkably similar to how Rachel is certain that she previously looked, now that the two of them have switched places.

"What if we're running all this time just to get to where we've always been?" Quinn pauses at Rachel's words, considering her question for several long moments until finally, she smiles and nods in her response.

"Then we're all pretty fucked."

"Listen, I can't stay for very long," Quinn doesn't relish in her response as she pushes herself upwards by the knees and onto her feet, brushing her hands gently against her jeans before standing completely erect, "I have to get back to school so that I can get to glee."

"So you skipped school, but are rushing back for glee?" Rachel accepts the excuse, nodding through a small laugh towards the remarkable nature by which Quinn's words strike her… Now that she considers the former Cheerio months before this moment, she considers a time by which she'd still never believed Quinn to be so much as capable of saying something like this.

"Times change," Quinn shrugs.

"Don't I know it," Rachel laughs, a motion that Quinn reciprocates although it never truly reaches the features of either girl's face.

"Thank you for finally being able to see something inside of me that not even I could ever truly figure out, Rachel." Quinn offers her thanks, but Rachel only nods, retaining silence as Quinn turns back around and pushes towards the exit.

"Hey Quinn…" The blonde turns against the doorway, mere steps from the hallway as she eyes Rachel, silently waiting for the girl to continue, "This world can be pretty ugly sometimes, trust me I know that more than anybody… But sometimes, as long as you start looking hard enough, it tends to be pretty beautiful too…"

"I'll remember that." Quinn is quick in her acknowledgment of what little advice Rachel feels as though she'd made available to offer to the blonde, with such a seemingly large need… Rachel watches as she offers one final, swift nod, and without so much as another word, Quinn turns straight out of the doorway and back into the hallway.

Rachel watches Quinn's back, watches the bob of the blonde ponytail as she turns quickly around the corner and out of Rachel's sight entirely so that before she even knows it, Rachel is staring at nothing more than an empty hallway…

She has no idea how long it is that she is staring, how much time passes without her so much as blinking once… But what she does know, is that by the time her phone begins to blare violently, jolting Rachel from her concentrated focus and out onto yet the next matter at hand, her eyes have already begun to burn, to tear in its lack of stimulation.

Rachel makes quick the reading of the name as it displays across the front banner of her cell phone… It is her mother, calling as scheduled, undoubtedly with the results of Noah's court hearing.

"How did it go?" Rachel is hasty as she speaks with one fluid movement, pouncing upon her phone, speaking before it's so much as raised to her ear without even bothering to say hello to her mother…

"It went fine, Rachel…" Shelby is vague, her voice remaining neutral; Rachel can't tell whether or not this is a good thing or a bad, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Rachel speeds her mother along hastily, but experience allows the girl to understand that Shelby will not be pleased, or complacent until she gets Rachel's full story, "I was a bit nauseous this morning but I didn't throw up so that's okay… I just fell asleep for a couple of hours so that always helps…" Rachel speaks at a mile a minute, refusing to so much as pause to take a breath, "Now please stop stalling mom… how did it go?"

Rachel is panting into the phone; she is exhausted, terrified that her mother will mistake her heavy breathing for some sort of medical emergency, that she would rush to the hospital without first giving Rachel the answer that she is truly looking for.

"Your brother is going to be on probation for the next six months," Shelby recognizes Rachel's instantaneous need for gratification, complying with a willingness that Rachel is silently gracious towards, "He owes a $750 fine as well as forty hours of community service, but it could have been worse, Rachel… It could have been a lot worse."

"How is Noah holding up?"

"He's fine," Shelby's answer is hasty; perhaps a little bit too hasty for Rachel's liking, "I think that he's more relieved than anything, really."

"Can I talk to him?" Rachel stutters, her voice choking in a manner that immediately embarrasses her… Rachel can only hope that Shelby had not heard the brief hiccup, but Rachel knows her mother much too well to raise her hopes too high.

"He already left the court, Rach…" Shelby sighs in the acknowledgment of just how badly Rachel wanted to speak with her brother, how disappointing his constant avoidance was starting to become… "I think that he might have gone outside for a bit of air for a little while, he might come back…"

"Okay…" Rachel mutters quietly, but both she and Shelby can tell simply by the tone of Rachel's voice that it really isn't.

"Alright, listen, I'm going to go home to change quick," Shelby progresses forwards, the topic of conversation, hoping, yet understandably failing to keep Rachel's mind off of her worry for too long, "But after that I'm going to come straight to the hospital, okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine…" Rachel mutters absentmindedly… The truth is, she can barely recognize her mother's words over her persistent fears, clouding across her mind, reminding her that nothing more mattered other than the idea that her brother was mad at her, that he would never speak to her ever again… even at a time that she needed him the most.

"I'll see you in a little while…" A knock at Rachel's door drowns Shelby's words, making the girl's head spin briefly with her inability to multitask and concentrate on one single source of sensory stimulation surrounding her… Rachel sneaks a glance upwards and towards her open door; Dr. McCarthy is there, standing in the doorway, gesturing silently for Rachel to provide him with an invitation for entrance…

Rachel can't help but to barely suppress a sigh; the last thing that she needs right now is even more bad news.

"Okay…" Rachel redirects her words towards her mother, simultaneously indicating with her hands for the doctor to enter, "I'll see you in a few…"

Rachel makes quick, her efforts to hang up her phone, choosing not to mention to her mother that her reasoning behind such a swift end in their conversation was based on the idea that her doctor had just shown abruptly up at her doorway… Shelby has enough to worry about right now; and although the idea that Rachel has enough to worry about right now as well crosses her mind, she doesn't allow the concept to linger.

"Rachel…" The doctor approaches cautiously as Rachel attempts to read his mind, but fails miserably in the man's notorious reputation for being a constantly blank slate, "Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No…" Rachel waves off his concern, silencing her phone as she proves her point by tucking it out of sight and beneath her blankets, "No, Dr. McCarthy, it's okay, it was just my mom."

"Oh, I was hoping that she would be here for this…" The man drifts into his characteristic series of pointless ramblings, leaving Rachel blue in the face with anticipation towards what it was that he had to say as he makes a hobby out of waving off Shelby's lack of presence as a seemingly minute detail, "Oh well, that's fine, I was just wondering if you would mind me coming in to talk to you for a minute or two… It's about the results of your blood work from earlier this morning."

"More bad news?" Rachel cringes with nervous anticipation, nodding alongside the understanding that this was the man who had lead a very similar conversation with her just yesterday morning; a conversation that had dashed Rachel's last hope of spending a couple of days at home…

Who knew the sob story that he had hidden up his sleeve this time around.

"The exact opposite, actually…" Rachel pauses as her heart skips a beat, eyebrows cocking hopefully as she watches with an increased glow behind her features, as Dr. McCarty makes himself comfortable in the seat besides her bed; the seat that so many different people have occupied today, that Rachel was beginning to feel unconditionally popular for the first time in the entirety of her life, "There was a pretty remarkable in your CBC this morning as compared to yesterday… Now, I discussed it with a few different people, and we have all agreed that you deserve a couple of days rest at home before you begin your next round of chemotherapy."

"What… I mean… really?" Rachel perks upwards, going against every rule that she had ever set for herself in regards to raising her hopes too high up simply for fear of having them shot down all over again…

"Really," The doctor nods in his confirmation, grinning broadly as he reaches upwards and places a strong hand firmly against Rachel's knee, "Congratulations Rachel… you're one step closer to the end."

The very world about Rachel's form begins to tremble; sweltering and collecting as it streams in a series of lights and colors that has Rachel feeling as if maybe, just maybe, there might actually be a light at the end of this tunnel after all.

Squeezing her eyes shut around the overwhelming stimulation, Rachel begs herself not to cry in her relief, not to sob towards the notion that she had seemingly been waiting a life time to hear these very words…

Rachel forces her to remind herself the idea that every new day held the possibility of a gift, an act of redemption from an otherwise terrible circumstance that had had occurred on the evening before… Rachel does not possess the capacity to understand what tomorrow will bring, she know this; but the possibility is enough for her to at least hold onto the hope, the advice that she had passed along to Quinn Fabray mere moments ago; advice that she was finally starting to believe in herself…

That maybe there actually was a hint of brilliance still hidden somewhere out there in this world after all.

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><p><strong>Ballerina03 – Congratulations on finishing all of your exams! Sorry to keep you waiting so long after, I am a swimmer as well (and a coach) and this past week was our hell week so I basically spend about 12 hours a day in a pool and the rest sleeping :) I was born in Ireland, up in Howth, but I was barely three when I moved to the States so I don't remember much of it… Sorry for the lack of Rachel action, I'm trying to build up to some more; all of these little, individual problems are eventually going to boil over and combine so that they're all going to have to learn to start hanging onto each other a little bit more again… Being able to read knowing that there's nothing else that you have to do is the best, enjoy it while it lasts! Studying in the UK sounds brilliant. I took a semester abroad in Australia and it was one of the best things I've ever done. Lucky you have some time to mull it over. Good luck and thank you as always!<strong>

**Amandaes417 – I'm glad you enjoyed! You gotta love Noah, although I do feel bad for throwing him into so many terrible situations, he's a tough guy… But at the same time he's going to start realizing that sometimes you have to lean on other people to make it through. Thanks for the review!**

**Readerforlife – Thank you!**

**Miee – Thank you for the review! I got a little bit carried away writing in Noah's POV, but the next few chapters will be Rachel oriented, and in the not too distant future, the two will be starting to learn to lean on each other a little bit more… There will be a bit more Finchel coming up, but it isn't all going to be easy; Finn is going to have a tough time adjusting to these real life situations so much bigger than anything that he is used to and Rachel is going to be more than hesitant to open up to anybody right now… Luckily, she's starting to realize who her close friends are which will help her along the way… Noah is in a bit of a funk right now, he's upset at himself and it's permeating into him being distant with his sister, but they will make up for it in a chapter or two.**

**Baygirl123 – Thank you kindly! The next three or four chapters are going to be from Rachel's perspective so I hope you enjoy. **

**Princess-N-Xoxo – Thank you! I love Santana as a character so I'm glad you enjoyed her… With everything going on and Noah and Rachel not really being on speaking terms at the moment Santana is going to be big for Noah (and Quinn for Rachel) in pulling the two back together so there will be much more to come.**

**Clara_Meliza – Haha, sorry for the cliffhanger/long wait! I know, I feel like I've been neglecting Rachel I got so caught up in writing Noah, but Rachel will have her say in these next few chapters. No need to apologize, I am the queen of forgetting to leave reviews so I understand how it goes! Thanks for dropping this one by though, it's greatly appreciated.**

**SomeoneLikeYou – Aw, I'm glad you enjoyed the Finchel, I threw a bit more in this chapter but it isn't going to be easy coming up… Right now, Rachel is trying to cling to a sense of normalcy while Finn is having a tough time adjusting to this kind of lifestyle, plus with Noah's displeasure towards the idea things are bound to go sour eventually (we'll just have to see for how long)… I personally don't have very strong opinions regarding relationships or characters, but I will say that for what Rachel is going through, she's going to need somebody to just be a really good friend for her and Quinn seems to want to cling to that role pretty hard… so that's that. **

**SuzQQ – Noah will be okay for now, but this may just be the tip of the iceberg in his beginning to retreat back to his old ways of having that "bad boy" type of image… His future with football will be pretty important a few chapters down the line, but Noah is a strong kid, he has a bright future ahead of him… Right now, Finn's primary use is to show that Rachel is really just trying to cling on something that will remind her of the way that things used to be, a little high school romance being her best option; whether it progresses into anything else, we'll have to wait and see but as things move along with Rachel's treatments, she isn't going really going to be in any sort of a state much longer to focus on anything other than her health, but let's just say that she will have a lot of friends at her side to help her through it either way… Next chapter will have a lot more Puckleberry interaction, I know, it's killing me to write the two of them fighting and not really being on speaking terms, but it makes writing the resolutions that much better. Thanks for the review, sorry for the wait. **


	32. Rachel Corcoran November 2011 Part II

**Welp, here's another doozy for you… This guy's about 14,500 words give or take a few. I'm gonna try to break these chapters down a little bit more in the future, mainly because these monster chapters take me so long to write as I'm sure they do you to read, but we'll wait and see what happens. **

**Anyways, sorry for the delay (I know I seem to be a broken record with this lately) and as always, thank you for all of the amazing support!**

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><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran<strong> – November 2011  
><em>(Part II)<em>

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><p>Rachel Corcoran moves with a surprising air of hesitation as she steps through the front door of her home for the first time in weeks.<p>

There had been a point once in her life that she had perceived her house as her own personally paradise, returning had been the only thing on her mind since her entering into the hospital nearly a month ago now…

Suddenly, she finds herself having reservations regarding the idea that she had allowed herself to get lost inside of the good feeling, the naivety of it all once before… what's to say that it wouldn't happen again?

Her mother and her aunt are practically carrying her inside of her house, flanking her on either side as Rachel held tight, her grip about their shoulders, biting her tongue against reminding them that she hadn't just been released from the hospital because she was immobile and incapable… She was perfectly capable of walking by herself.

"Welcome home, Rachel…" Shelby deposits her daughter directly in the foyer, allowing her to take in her sights and surroundings, to embrace the home that she hadn't seen for so long…

The living room has since been slightly rearranged in an effort to better accustom Santana's moving in following her parents' kicking her from their home simply for her honesty…

There is a folded blanket resting against the couch, a pillow tucked away in the corner amidst a handful of strewn clothes… The change is minor, but it has Rachel feeling as though she is becoming more and more like a stranger every time she walks inside of her home.

"Where's Santana?" Rachel vies for small talk; the only evidence of the girl being her makeshift nest and empty pile of clothes… Rachel also can't help but to notice that her brother is missing as well, but this she keeps to herself.

"Cheerio's practice, I think…" Shelby shrugs, placing Rachel's duffle, weighed heavy with all of the items that Rachel has managed to accumulate over the weeks down on the couch besides Santana's belongings, "And then she's running to the grocery store for me. I want to cook you something special for your first night home."

"If I eat anything at all these days it's special…" Rachel growls under her breath, growing sarcastic and snarky without particularly meaning to be… It was just that to Rachel, the word _food_ these days was rarely associated with the term _special_… vile and disgusting maybe, but definitely not special.

"Hey, I've still got a few tricks up my sleeves," Shelby promises her daughter, placing an assuring hand down against her scrawny shoulders, "Don't worry, okay?"

"I thought that Santana got kicked off the Cheerios? With Quinn and Brittney because of the glee club…" Rachel's mind is racing at a mile a minute… She can't seem to tell whether or not she genuinely wants a change in the subject, or if she's simply feeling too ADD at the moment to concentrate on one sole topic… probably both.

The only thing that she does know for sure is that she has been home less than five minutes and already her head is spinning painfully, struggling simply just to keep up with the multitude of recent adjustments that have since plagued their lives…

"They did," Shelby nods as if this is supposed to clarify events rather than just make them even more confusing for Rachel, "Santana spoke with Sue Sylvester… I'm not entirely certain exactly how that ordeal went, but I do know that they managed to strike some sort of deal… I was a little bit nervous at first that this deal wouldn't end with the best intentions towards the glee club – you know how Sue Sylvester can be – but everything seems to be going okay so far."

"Quinn didn't take it," Rachel whispers aloud, realization glowing in the formation of a glistening light behind her eyes as memories of Quinn's visit, of her proclamation towards losing the very world around her that she had made just yesterday… It had all began with her being dumped by Finn, and had ended with her dismissal from the Cheerios…

"What?" Shelby looks towards her daughter for confirmation, clearly unsure whether or not she had accurately heard Rachel speaking of Quinn Fabray without a tone of animosity behind her voice…

"The offer, whatever it was…" Rachel makes a poor attempt towards an explanation, shaking her head in an effort to allow Shelby to understand that no amount of words could ever appropriately describe to Shelby, the scope of the conversation that Rachel had had with Quinn yesterday afternoon… "She stopped by the hospital yesterday."

"Rachel…" Shelby's voice dips warningly, Rachel's mentioning of Quinn doing nothing for the woman other than reopen old wounds, old memories of the history between the two girls alongside the notion that the last thing that Rachel needed right now was to revisit her emotionally damaged path alongside the blonde.

"It's okay," Rachel professes their bid towards making amends, but Shelby's eyes continue to narrow uncertainly… Rachel is positive that had Shelby merely seen that look of defeat as it had danced across Quinn Fabray's eyes just yesterday, she would think instantaneously different of the girl… just as Rachel had. "Really mom, she just really needs a friend right now, and you know, lately I've been hard pressed for one too…"

"You're talking about your brother…" Rachel swallows heavily in her affirmative response… At the time, she hadn't specifically been speaking about Noah, but the more that she thought about it, the more that it seemed that her mother was right… again.

Without her big brother, her best friend to talk to, it did seem that Rachel was growing a bit desperate in the whole friends department.

"He's being…." Rachel shakes her head briefly, struggling to come up with the appropriate words with which to properly describe exactly what it was that her brother was being at the moment, "I don't know… Noah."

"Well you know how he can be." Shelby sighs, shaking her head alongside the acknowledgment of just how frustrating her brother's notorious mood swings can be, "This is how he deals with things Rachel... You just… he needs time."

"I've given him time!" Her pent up anger regarding Noah's ridiculous antics seeps involuntarily from her mouth, relief prominent in their escape following days of being stuck inside of her throat. "How much more does he need?"

"We're trying, Rachel…" Shelby begs her daughter to understanding, kneading gently at the tense muscles beneath her hands in an effort to get the girl to relax before she got herself dangerously worked up, "To be honest, Noah has been distant with me these past few weeks as well, if it makes you feel better… Santana has been helpful, trying to help Noah through everything and all, but… he just still needs some more time."

"Time isn't exactly something that we have a lot of these days." Shelby's eyes snake downwards to meet the slightly shorter girl's before her nearly identical ones. She glares carefully, warningly, as if to make it clear to Rachel that this is not a concept that Shelby would very much like to think about right now.

And as much as Rachel doesn't really want to think about it either, these days, it doesn't seem as if they have much of a choice anymore.

"How long is Santana going to stay here?" Here she goes again, thinking quickly on her feet, asking the first thing that pops inside of her head in an effort to get Shelby to stop staring so accusingly, to get this feeling of pure guilt off of her mind…

"I don't know," Shelby shakes her head softly; she recognizes everything that Rachel is trying to do at the moment, but at the same time, accepts her daughter's avoidance as she steps away from Rachel, moving diligently about the living room in an effort to pluck carelessly at the loose items about the room, simply to keep her hands busy, "To honest the last time that I went to talk to Santana's parents, it didn't go so well…"

Rachel watches Shelby's movements carefully; they're articulate, determined, full of purpose… Rachel can see it clear inside of her mother's eyes; the woman is struggling to understand how a parent can simply abandon their child so easily, over something so seemingly arbitrary… Rachel is certain that Shelby could search a lifetime for the answers and never come up with them.

This seems to be a pattern for her mother, although Rachel would never admit to this aloud.

"But Santana is eighteen years old now, she isn't legally obligated to go back to her parent's house, and I can't believe that I'm saying this, but right now it seems best for all of us that Santana is around…" Shelby seems to be attempting to reason with herself as much as she is Rachel, "The relationship has been rather… symbiotic lately."

The sound of the back door swiftly opening before slamming closed just as quickly has Shelby perking, frozen in the middle of the motion to fold a towel so that she looks like an attack dog, prepared to pounce upon the first person attempting to enter her house uninvited.

Her feet move swiftly, taking her towards the kitchen in an effort to investigate who it was that had chosen entrance through the rarely, if ever used back door… She relaxes only upon watching Santana struggle to maneuver her way into the house balancing her full gym bag over her shoulder and three separate grocery bags between her arms.

"I forgot my key…" Santana explains quickly upon looking upwards, only to find Shelby hovering threateningly over her… She seems to have been getting used to the idea of reading Shelby's facial expressions in her time spent at the Corcoran home; her pale face and acute stare particularly tense today now that she had the added concern of Rachel's exposure to the open, away from the safety of the hospital.

"It's fine…" Shelby waves Santana off, but her soft sigh of relief exposes just how on edge the woman truly is, "Hey was Noah with you?"

"No," Santana shakes her head so that Shelby immediately inflates once more; one more problem left unresolved. "The last time that I saw him, he was upstairs in his bedroom…" Santana's eyes shift nervously, dodging the silent question towards why it was that Santana had been upstairs in Noah's bedroom to begin with…

Rachel wonders how many times a day that Shelby has to remind herself of just how gay Santana truly is.

"Um… welcome home, Rachel…" Santana dodges an increasingly awkward silence as her eyes flash rapidly towards and away from Rachel… The two previously sworn enemies have yet to truly experience what it would be like, living under the same roof with each other…

This was bound to get interesting.

"Thanks," Rachel shifts… She is certain that Santana is willing to be civil, just as Rachel was in return, but that didn't mean that this still wasn't going to be awkward.

"What did you get at the store?" Shelby doesn't seem to notice the tension between the two girls; in fact, she doesn't seem to notice much of anything, rushing through her life, rushing obscenely from task to task, just as they have all been so prone to doing lately.

"Everything that you asked for," Santana assures Shelby, placing the bags down against the counter where Shelby immediately begins to sift through its contents.

"Did you get the whey? And those fruit smoothie things… Your doctor said that they would be good for keeping your weight up, Rach and plus, they'll be easy for you to eat…" Shelby moves in rapid paced motions that are difficult for Rachel to keep up with… She has been on edge all day long, terrified of doing something wrong, terrified of ruining Rachel's trip home by causing an unanticipated action that would send her straight back and into the hospital once more… But strangely, through Shelby's panic, Rachel finds herself growing remarkably calm, "What about all of the cereal? You should eat a lot of grains to help with the nausea, oh and the soy…"

"I got it all, Mrs. Corcoran…" Santana attempts to suppress a laugh as Shelby busies herself at the bottom of the grocery bag, and with both of their backs turned, finally pointed away from her, Rachel takes advantage of not having all eyes pointed directly towards her for once and backs slowly outwards and away from the kitchen…

She wants a moment away from all of this, a moment to embrace the idea that outside of this hospital, it was easier for her to forget her current predicament, her current situation… just so long as her mother wasn't there to constantly be reminding her of it, that is.

It isn't as if she blamed Shelby; her mother was simply being just that, a mother… Shelby was concerned, she was worried, and Rachel knew that she had every right to be… Experience has made this matter no different than the last, Rachel is certain that Shelby could have done this a million times and still, it wouldn't have made it any easier.

Rachel moves on the balls of her feet, sneaking silently up the stairs, desperate for a chance to see her bedroom in the first time in weeks, to fall face forwards into her own bed for a change and stay there forever…

She is distracted almost the second that she rounds against the top of the staircase… Her brother's door is open but a crack, that broken doorframe continuous in making it impossible to close all the way… Noah only ever closes his door – or closes it as much as it can close anyway – when he is inside of it… and doesn't want to be bothered.

Rachel sneaks forwards, there is the slightest of noise escaping from beyond the crack of Noah's door and the closer that Rachel gets, the easier it is for her to identify the harsh sounds of Noah's video game system, the barbaric war and shooting games that Rachel has always scoffed at, the ones that she never could understand why people enjoyed so much.

She peers inside of the doorway… Noah is propped against his bed, eyes blank and empty as they stare forwards and towards the television screen. The room is dark other than the slight glow of the TV as it bounces back and against Noah's face. There's an Xbox controller stationed inside of his hands, but he looks disinterested, his fingers moving in slow, sluggish motions that are starkly uncharacteristic of her brother, fiercely competitive in all aspects of life… including single player video games.

"Hi…" Rachel speaks softly, tentative as she pushes the door open but a fraction of an inch, taking a mere handful of steps forwards inside o the messy bedroom.

"Don't you knock?" Noah's voice is monotone, his eyes never leave the television screen as he pauses, rolling his eyes at nothing as he recognizes the rudeness behind his tone, shaking his head as he reevaluates his initial statement, "Sorry… I mean… welcome home, I guess."

"Thank you," Rachel swallows the orchestrated response, risking a handful of steps even further inside as she waits for Noah to yell at her, to tell her to leave… When he never does, she continues in her advance, refusing to stop until she is at the foot of Noah's bed, her confidence growing with every step so that by the time she arrives at her destination, she feels good enough so sit down at the mattress' edge.

"Are you mad at me?" Rachel is blunt, deciding with a tone of finality in her five second trip that this was the best means by which to approach Noah in regards to their current situation.

"Why should I be mad at you?" His voice retains its previous sense of dullness, never before has Rachel heard her brother sounding so uninterested in her entire life.

"I don't know," Rachel shrugs, trying to be as casual as humanly possible although recognizing that she is failing miserably, "Why don't you tell me?"

Noah is determinedly silent, eyes cold as he stares unblinking towards the television… The only response that he does seem to make is that of his motions against the controller growing increasingly harsher as if he is literally trying to push the multi colored array of buttons inside of their plastic casing.

"It's just… you haven't really been over to see me in the past few weeks," Rachel attempts to keep an already dead conversation alive, practically begging for a response that she isn't entirely certain she will ever get, "You're not talking to me… It's just not like you is all."

"Do you want the truth?" Noah finally asks, rolling his eyes against the understanding that his sister was just as persistent as his mother was…. She wanted answers and she was not going to leave him alone until she got them.

"Yes," Rachel nods confidently although on the inside, her brain is teeming with fear towards just what those answers truly were.

"That day that I got in the fight with Karofsky, the first thing that I did was to go over to the hospital," Noah pauses, trying to collect himself as Rachel's brows arch with confusion… She tries desperately to remember that day, but she immediately finds herself struggling… The only thing that Rachel does know for certain is that Rachel definitely did not come to talk to her, "You were the first person that I could think of that I wanted to see, to talk to, to help to get me out of this mess… Except you weren't by yourself… you were with Finn."

"Oh…" Rachel breathes, the only response that she can force herself to make… Her stomach plunges downward, straight into her very knees… Here she had been, worried this entire time about how it was she was going to find a means by which to tell Noah that she had been seeing his best friend behind his back, and he had already known the whole time.

"Yeah," Noah spits, his words laced with anger towards the unceremonious means by which he had discovered Rachel's secret, "Oh."

"That isn't how we wanted you to find out Noah, you have to believe me…" Rachel finds herself desperate for a means by which to defend herself, yet unsure if anything that she had to say would actually have any effect whatsoever on her brother's already seemingly made up mind, "Finn and I, we wanted to tell you together…"

"Yeah well, look how well that turned out." The disappointment behind his voice confirms to Rachel that Noah's forgiveness was not going to be an easy sentiment for her to gain.

"This is my life too you know, Noah! I'm just trying to live it to the fullest while I still can." Rachel presents her valid argument, trying to be as truthful as humanly possible alongside the understanding that this was her only hopes of ever gaining Noah's respect, "None of us can predict what tomorrow will bring."

"Don't pull that cancer card on me, Rachel!" Noah snaps, his eyes finally darting over towards his sister… They're empty and sad, and if Rachel hadn't been so busy reeling in the shock of her brother's outburst, she would have been otherwise struggling to identify the Noah Corcoran that she knew so well behind those stranger's eyes.

"I'm not!" Rachel's eyes narrow as she grows understandably defensive against Noah's words, "I don't need you treating me like I'm nothing, Noah… Stop acting like I'm already gone because I'm right here!"

"I get it Rachel, okay?" Rachel cringes as Noah's volume rises alongside a crash as he throws his video game controller against the ground, the characteristic music indicating the death of his character sweltering uncomfortably between their temporary silence, "Trust me, I get it more than anybody else, and I'm sorry that you're sick, but this time, it isn't just your life that we're talking about ruining here, it's mine too, and as much as you think that you're the only person that is going through all of this right now, you're not, it's all of us, so why don't you do us all a favor and stop acting like it is!"

"Please don't yell at me, Noah…" Rachel's eyes water towards her brother's words as they force her to reconsider herself, her every decision that she has made since the moment of her diagnosis.

"If you're looking for me to give you my blessing or whatever with Finn, than you can forget about it… Trust me, I know Finn, Rachel, I know the things that he does, so when he inevitably leaves you high and dry in a couple of weeks, don't come crying about it to me, because I already told you so." He informs her bluntly of his desire to keep as far out of this relationship as humanly possible….

He is focusing solely on the singular issue of Rachel and Finn's relationship in his anger, but through these harsh undertones, Rachel detects a more unsettling issue, a deeper feeling indicating that his little sister's boyfriend may actually be the least of his problems right now…

If there is one thing that is for absolute certain, it is that there is much more out there that Noah is not letting onto.

"Noah…" She is begging, pleading with her brother not to act like this right now, not to speak to her in a tone that Rachel had not heard in years… not since he had been the poster child for trouble some years ago.

"Just get out of my room, Rachel."

"Noah, please…" A handful of tears slip out from underneath her eyelids, strained to their maximum capacity in an effort to prevent this exact moment, but Noah's eyes have already left her own… he doesn't notice, and as much as it hurts her to even consider this, Rachel can't help but wonder whether or not he would care even if he did, "I have nothing here for me, Noah… I have nothing here for me except for you."

"Just leave, Rachel!" He shouts, picking back up his Xbox controller, balancing it between his palms, carrying along in his game as if nothing had ever happened in the first place, "Jesus Christ, don't you ever listen?"

"Fine," Rachel scoffs; her voice is strong, determined as she tries to pretend to both herself as well as her brother that she does not care, that she is not bothered by him, that she wants as little to do with Noah right now as he seems to want to do with her.

She pushes herself upwards and off of the mattress, the entirety of the bed shaking on its frame as she stands erect, stamping her feet harshly from Noah's bedroom, subsequently ignoring the pounding that has begun to resonate inside of her head, the churning deep within the very pit of her stomach.

Rachel stomps her way outwards and into the hallway, throwing a genuine, internal tantrum in a manner that she hasn't done since she was a child… Her head is turned downwards, she is staring determinedly towards the ground below so focused on keeping the tears firmly inside of her eyes that when she ultimately crashes, banging painfully off of another body so harshly that it sends her flying straight down to the floor below her, it takes her by such a surprise that it knocks the air clear from her lungs.

"Shit, I'm sorry…" A panicked voice, flustered with apologetic undertones filters serenely across Rachel's ears as an olive skinned hand is extended outwards towards her; a peace offering that Rachel accepts gratefully as Santana lifts the entirety of Rachel's miniscule deadweight upwards and onto her feet, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" Rachel merely shakes off the jolt of surprise that her sudden run in with Santana Lopez has caused her, trying to act as casually as possible as she wipes her dusty hands off on her jeans.

"Your mom was looking for you." Santana's eyes shift uncomfortably… Rachel can tell just by looking at her that she had heard, at the very least, the manner by which her and Noah's conversation had just concluded, and although she remains silent, the truth is written clearly across her face, "Nobody warned me that she was going to turn into a psycho the second that you got home."

"Yeah, she has a tendency to do that…" Rachel tries to grin, turning her attention onto her mother's obsessive tendencies regarding Rachel and her health as to at least try to forget about Noah, "How did you manage to escape from her down there?"

"I snuck out just in time for her to start testing the asparagus for pesticides." Santana plays off Rachel's desires just as the younger girl begins to fidget uncomfortably, desperately avoiding any and all means of eye contact… Rachel is rapidly beginning to grow uncomfortable, she is certain that this is the most that her and Santana have ever spoken well… ever.

If only she'd known before that all she'd had to do to get an in with the cool crowd was to be diagnosed with cancer.

"My mom is a bit of a perfectionist," Rachel mutters towards her feet, "I guess that I get that from her."

"I've noticed," Santana nods through a heavy breath of air as she shakes her head gently; her tone is cheerful but her eyes darken slightly as she speaks, "Oh well, it could be worse… Your mom could have kicked you out of your house for being gay."

"Yeah, I heard about that…" Rachel struggles to find an appropriate response to Santana's brash statement, although she feels obligated to project, grateful for a chance to focus on somebody's problems other than her own for a change… "For everything, I mean."

"My parents will come around eventually…" Santana waves the girl off so easily that Rachel has a difficult time believing the motion… Rachel considers Shelby… she knows that the woman would never do anything like that to her, that she wouldn't even be capable of such an action, yet here was Santana, dismissed by her own parents, yet seemingly indifferent about the manner as a whole… There were fifty million refugees alive on this Earth today, fifty million people without a place in this world to call their home. It fascinated Rachel that Santana had since become one of those people. "And listen, about Noah… he'll come around eventually, his mind is just all over the place right now."

Rachel's breath hiccups profoundly against her throat as Santana subtly hints towards her having heard her conversation with Noah… She is unsure why she is so surprised by the revelation; in fact, she is more shocked that Shelby hadn't heard them as well the two of them had been so loud.

"I know how my brother works, trust me…" Rachel grows naturally defensive over the idea that Santana was the one that was giving _her_ advice about her brother… She isn't entirely certain why, Rachel was never one to have been particularly territorial, but then again, she had never really had one of her brother's ex-girlfriends living inside of her house either… especially not during a time that her and Noah's relationship had been in dire jeopardy.

"I didn't mean it like that…" Santana insists, her eyes lifting upwards as to meet with Rachel's just as the younger girls' begin to narrow dangerously, trying to indicate towards Santana that she was rapidly entering dangerous territory…

But Santana Lopez had never been one to back out of a difficult conversation.

"He's known about you and Finn for a pretty long time, you know…" Rachel practically chokes as Santana descends upon a path that Rachel didn't even think Santana would be willing to go down… She grows immediately nervous, double checking over her shoulder and towards Noah's slightly ajar door, just wondering whether or not he was listening to every word that Santana was saying… "I think that secretly he'd noticed that something was bound to happen between the two of you all along, I just think that maybe he didn't know how to tell you."

"He used to talk to me about everything…" Rachel's voice involuntarily emits as being hostile beyond what even she'd believed possible… As it was, she is not entirely surprised when Santana retreats from her slightly, "I guess that you're the new go to around here."

"He just needs his space…"

"Yeah, well I need my brother!" This time when Rachel yells, she doesn't care whether or not Noah can hear her, in fact, she would almost prefer it…

She marches forwards; a rampage in the form of a determined mission as she pushes past Santana, their shoulders bumping on the way out… She doesn't stop until she's reached her bedroom and only turns back around when she is confined safely to the doorway.

"You know, just because you're living here now, it doesn't make you a part of this family!"

She recognizes only briefly, just how quickly that conversation had taken a sharp and dramatic turn for the worst as she slams her bedroom door closed behind her, leaving her locked firmly inside of her darkened bedroom, chest heaving and head pounding so that she knows that she will have to sit herself down before she falls down.

It isn't healthy for her to be getting this worked up all the time; cancer or not, living like this was not in the slightest bit healthy… She practically falls face forwards into her pillows, the comfort of finally being in her own bed erased by the means by which she had ultimately gotten there.

Tears of anger sting at the corners of her eyes… Her mother would be coming upstairs any moment. She had undoubtedly heard the heated conversation between her and Santana; was definitely going to scold Rachel for allowing herself to grow so angry, for yelling at Noah, and for subsequently using all of her reserved anger to yell at Santana as well…

Then as soon as she finished doing that, Shelby would tell her to eat her food, take her medication, and then go straight to bed…

It was a routine that Rachel was sick of already.

She wishes that she had more time that life would be willing to give her at least a little bit longer to actually think things through… But now it was starting to grow much later than it ever needed to be. There were not nearly enough hours of daylight, and while it was easy enough to smile during the day, fear was always ready to take its place come sunset…

And more often than not, in the dulcet tones of tortured dreams, Rachel realizes that she is going to be needing even more than a miracle inside of her veins after all.

* * *

><p>"Rachel… Wake up, honey."<p>

Rachel's senses are foggy as she escapes from unconsciousness to the hazy sound of somebody calling her name and a hand shaking her gently by the shoulder.

She doesn't even remember falling asleep, her angry tirade clearly having led her straight to her bed.

"Go away," Rachel mutters, swatting gently at the intrusive hand shaking at her shoulder relentlessly, pulling her from the sleep that she so desperately craved… She had thought that the whole point of being released from the hospital in the first place was so that she could get more rest, but it seems as if the effect is opposite.

"Come on Rachel, get up…" As her brain slowly clears from its haze of sleep, she begins to recognize her mother's voice, eyes, sticky with sleep making out the woman's blurry image as it hovers before her.

"What time is it?" Rachel groans, sitting up inside of her bed as she rubs gently at her eyes, squinting as the clearly just-risen sun streams violently into her windows, blinding her with the reminder of just how early it really was.

"It's almost seven," Shelby responds casually, pulling the covers back and off of her daughter as she attempts to get her up and out of her bed…

"Ugh… five more minutes." Rachel grasps at the end of her comforter, giving it a firm tug as she wraps it back around her body, relishing in her exhausted brain's trying to convince her that this was but another normal day; that her mother had stormed inside of her bedroom in order to wake her up for school, that the last couple of weeks had all simply been nothing more than one large, painfully realistic nightmare.

"Hey, come on, you didn't take your pills last night, you have to do that now," Rachel's body falls slack, disappointed in her mother's crude reminder that her made up dream state had not in fact been so made up after all.

"I don't want to," Rachel mutters in her complaint, "I don't feel well today, mom."

"Rachel, you're not going to spend your entire time home laying in your bed feeling sorry for yourself," Shelby is insistent, she has no choice but to be as she lays down a series of ground rules that Rachel cannot even escape even when she is dying, "Now come on, besides, there's a surprise waiting for you downstairs."

"A surprise?" Rachel's head shoots upwards, suddenly interested as her eyebrows arch in a silent question towards whether or not this allusive surprise was real, of if Shelby was simply trying to get her out of bed faster.

"The glee club has something that they want to share with you," Confusion rapidly takes the place of exhaustion, fueling her motions as she finally manages to pull the covers up and off of herself, swinging her scrawny legs around the side of the bed, "So come on, let's go… up!"

Shelby allows Rachel to lead the way from her room as the girl slides her feet slowly against the rug with every step that she takes… She hadn't been entirely dishonest with Shelby when she'd informed her that she had woken up this morning not feeling her particular best, although she couldn't for the life of her decide whether or not this nausea, this lethargy, the headache had something to do with her illness, or the idea of just how badly she'd messed things up with Noah and Santana last night…

Probably both.

"I'll tell them that you'll be down in a few minutes." Shelby deposits Rachel directly in front of the open bathroom door, accompanying her the entirety of the route as if she doesn't trust that Rachel would go on her own terms.

Rachel is half surprised that Shelby doesn't follow her straight into the small room as she makes her way straight towards the marble counter top, the box of pills that is waiting for her almost tauntingly.

It takes everything that Rachel has inside of her not to throw the box against the wall; it's assortment of compartments, organized horizontally by the time of day and vertically by the day of the week staring at her from each individual angle.

She collects Tuesday morning's pills into her awaiting palm like tiny mancala pieces, shifting the medication against her skin, a cocktail of drugs whose number could challenge even that of a dying old person's.

Rachel dumps them into her mouth all at once, eyes tilting upwards where she accidentally catches her own reflection in the mirror before her just as she swallows each pill down in one cup, devoid of even the assistance of the cup of water that Shelby had left for her… Rachel notices immediately that she looks just about as well as she feels; pale skin, bones protruding increasingly more prominent against her emaciated frame, and most prominently, the status of her hair, which grows bleaker and bleaker with each passing day.

Whole portions of her scalp have been exposed seemingly overnight, her situation growing harder to hide by natural means as it increases rapidly in its severity… As much as she doesn't want to, Rachel forces herself to recognize this phenomenon; after all, there is no longer much of a choice in the matter, and Rachel Corcoran known this better than any other.

Sneaking silently into the hallway, Rachel is half expecting to see Shelby waiting their lingering, although she is both surprised as well as relieved when the woman's presence is not immediately shown.

Stepping on her tiptoes, Rachel sneaks silently towards her brother's room next door…. She presses it open quietly, peering through the crack towards the bedroom's interior, head snaking and eyes shifting for any signs of her brother.

She is grateful to find the room to be empty; she doesn't need a confrontation with Noah right now, and in her solitude, with the rest of the glee club present, Rachel knows that they would be able to avoid the inevitable for at least a little while longer.

She finds what she is looking for almost immediately, locating with relative ease an old Detroit Tigers baseball cap that is twice the size of Rachel's own head… She cringes as she catches a glimpse of her own reflection inside of Noah's full length mirror; she looks terrible in hats, wearing such defied her every principle of fashion, but of course, she looks even terrible with large bald spots adorning her scalp…

Ultimately, this is her settling.

Taking her time in her journey down the length of the stairs, Rachel chooses to move slowly, one step at a time as she carefully assess her surroundings, attempts to put two and two together in an effort to assess what it is that her glee club has in store for her…

Her hesitation is profound as the image of a full glee club – engaging in simple banter, spread across the entirety of her living room – comes quickly into view… She hasn't seen the majority of them in weeks, and the idea that the only ones who have made an appearance since her hospitalization has been Finn, Santana, Quinn and her brother is not only shocking, but more than a bit of a deterrent as well.

It is only upon her considering whether or not she would want to be paying frequent visits to a pediatric cancer ward that she begins to wonder whether she would go to visit any of her counterparts should the roles have been reversed.

She wants to say yes, but the idea of actually having a choice of being inside of the hospital fogs the decisiveness of her answer to the point that she cannot bring herself to blame any of them.

"Rachel," William Schuester is pacing about the otherwise sated group, quickly allowing him to become the first to spot the girl as she gradually makes her way closer, "How are you feeling?"

Rachel stammers only briefly, overwhelmed by the sudden presence about the room as the tension begins to build like a well… Mr. Schuester, continuously oblivious to the social cues of his diverse glee club is seemingly the only one not to notice the sudden silence as he greets the girl at the bottom of the stair case with a characteristic smile and a strong hug.

"Better now," Rachel nods past the glee coach and towards the eleven remaining faces staring upwards and towards her, "What are you all doing here?"

"Well, we all went to rehearsal this morning and Mr. Schuester had some news for us," Quinn speaks calmly against a slowly building excitement that has Rachel's heart slowly increasing with every beat, ticking along the idling seconds of a dramatic buildup that Quinn has seemed to have mastered, "We wanted to come here, to tell you in person… your mom said that it was okay."

"It's just our way of reminding you that we're here for you…" Not even the notoriously silent Tina can manage to contain her excitement as she blurts a beacon of support that has her respective glee members bobbing their heads uniformly in their agreement.

"What is it?" Rachel pushes for answers, hoping desperately that her excitement is not falsely translated into rudeness.

"I got a phone call this morning," Mr. Schuester steps between Rachel and the glee club once more, offering her the explanation that she so desperately craved, "The president of the National Show Choir Association from our district called me to inform me that he'd heard about our… situation… involving Regionals."

Rachel's heart sinks dramatically, her face falling alongside the painfully pounding organ… Was this what they had all come here to do; to make her feel guilty all over again about her single handedly ruining the club's dreams of going to Nationals?

"They want to give the New Directions a second chance to perform; we'll be going to compete within the Columbus district three weeks from Saturday."

"Wait…" Rachel pauses as Will's words seep deep inside of her system, flooding her with a relief that she struggles to hold onto alongside the idea that maybe this was all just one big joke, and that she was the brunt of it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," She is certain that the broadness of her glowing smile could be seen from all the way down the block… Rachel hasn't felt this sense of happiness, of relief since the moment of her diagnosis, and all at once it seems that maybe, just maybe, things are not as bad as she had previously believed after all, "But we're gonna need a lot of help; three weeks isn't a long time to prepare and we've got a lot of work to do… I was hoping that you would be willing to participate."

Rachel chokes on her own response, one that she can't seem to deliver fast enough… She has been feeling so stuck in these past couple of weeks that this sense that she is finally positively drifting manages to coast her into this sense that leaves her reminding herself that she might be sick, but she was also still young… Sometimes you simply had to think fast.

"Are you kidding?" Rachel finally manages to blurt out; she is already embracing the opportunity to sing; a soothing, lustful sound that she has missed so much, perhaps stupidly taking advantage of her uncertainty towards the idea that this might be one of the last opportunities that she would ever have to do so, "Of course I will!"

Her eagerness to perform propels her into a dangerous overdrive that has her head immediately spinning; an adrenaline rush that forces her, if but for a brief moment, to forget her current situation in its entirety… None of it seemed to matter anymore; she was going to sing again, she was going to be granted one brief interval in which she could be taken away from the nonsense of the real world and return to the one thing that she had ever been truly born to do in the first place.

Rachel embraces the unexpected find in her miraculous gift of song, in these people that she had somehow grown to love, and who had grown to love her in return, in the idea that she will always be able to be lifted upwards and out of the darkness that has so easily found a means by which to consume her.

Suddenly, she finds herself more than willing to fight, if nothing more than for the music that she knows will always be able to save her, even on those days that she wasn't so sure that she would survive.

"There's still one little problem," Rachel's brief bout of floating upwards and directly into paradise is shattered amidst Santana's voice, spewing the reminder that nothing could ever be as perfect as initially perceived, "Where are we going to get our twelfth member now that Rachel can't perform?"

The perfect world around her shatters just as quickly as Rachel had managed to build it back up again alongside the reminder that even if her voice did manage to come back again, that didn't necessarily mean that anybody would be around to even listen.

Tears flash involuntarily across her eyes… How stupid had she been to automatically assume that by Mr. Schuester's asking her to contribute, he hadn't meant for her to get up on that stage and sing, but instead to offer brief segments of creative advice straight from a hospital bed?

She doesn't want to be here anymore. In fact, she _can't_ be here anymore, standing amongst her fellow teammates, the ones that will actually have the opportunity to be on stage, the ones that will actually be able to showcase their talents when experience tells them that hers has always been the one that could shine the brightest.

She immediately discards her perceived lack of modesty as an outlet of her disappointment. The one thing that she truly does know for certain is that she does not want to be here anymore.

"Let me worry about finding our twelfth member…" Nobody seems to have noticed Rachel's sudden silence, the pitfall that her facial expression has suddenly made as she begins to back slowly from her teammates, moving swiftly, yet silently towards the direction of the kitchen.

She is already halfway towards her destination before the voices begin to call for her attention, for an explanation to her sudden departure… Rachel ignores every last one of them; she does not need this, she doesn't need to be dragged into this competition simply for the sake of her team gaining a couple of pity points at her expense on the side.

Rachel Corcoran was starting to get sick of everything always boiling back down to cancer.

"Rachel!" Her mother's voice is less confused, more strict and focused as the hurried footsteps coming up behind her tell Rachel that the older woman is currently following her… Rachel jolts with the motion to move quicker, but her usual lethargy is pounding through every step forward that she takes; she can feel her face growing hot and flushed with her body's rigorous expenditure of energy… The last thing that she needs right now is yet another reminder of just how limiting her illness has been, yet somehow, the idea always manages to come rearing its head at her in full swing.

"Rachel," Her mother calls for her again, practically running as she rounds into the kitchen. She sounds worried, almost frantic so that Rachel immediately understands that the woman is perceiving her daughter's abrupt departure as a sign of an abrupt, fleeting bout of illness on Rachel's part, "What is it? What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

"No, I'm not feeling okay!" Rachel snaps.

"Well then talk to me Rach, what's the matter?" Shelby's fear buds rapidly into a panic, begging Rachel for answers as she places her hands on either side of the girl's flushed face, staring into the girl's eyes in a desperate bid to read her very mind, "Should I take you to the ER?"

"I want to perform at Regionals." Rachel ignores Shelby's presumptions towards the idea that Rachel's problems are currently manifesting in the physical, coming straight outright with her demands in a manner that has Shelby's shoulders immediately relaxing, her face shifting with emotions from fear, to pure understanding.

"Absolutely not," Shelby's hands drop from Rachel's face as color slowly beings to seep back into her cheeks… She stands slowly upright, placing her hands firmly on her hips, her posture alone indicating her absolute preparedness for the fight that was bound to occur between the two.

"Please mom, I need to do this!" Rachel's prepped and ready argument seeps straight from her mouth. She tries to sound convincing, but really she knows that her voice appears as more of a plea, "I've been feeling fine so far, I'm sailing through all of my treatments and besides, my next cycle of chemo is going to be outpatient anyway…"

"Rachel, you know as well as I do that things don't work as smoothly as that… We have absolutely no idea where you will be with your treatments in the next three weeks," The smallest of laughs escapes Shelby's lips as if to enforce just how ridiculous Rachel's idea truly is to the girl, "You know how quickly things can change. We can't rely on anything that is supposed to happen, because nothing that is supposed to happen is ever what actually happens."

"But I'll be fine!" Rachel insists… She knows that everything that her mother had just informed her is true, she had had the idea permanently embedded into the very depths of her brain ever since she was a child, but in Rachel's mind, this notion was even more of a reason that this was something that she simply had to do.

"You don't know that!" Shelby's voice raises exponentially, frustration stemming off of her tongue towards the idea that Rachel's one-track mind cannot ever seem to divert off the path of a Broadway career, even by something so seemingly serious as her current situation, "You have cancer Rachel, and I know that it's frustrating, but the entire point of us doing all of this is for you to get better again so please; you cannot put yourself into any sort of a situation that may compromise your getting better."

"But…"

"No," Shelby cuts her off, silencing Rachel with a threatening tone and a sharp jab of her finger directly towards Rachel's face, "And that's my final answer… Rachel, it just can't happen. I'm sorry."

"Fine," Rachel's eyes narrow inwards, even she can recognize a lost cause when she sees one… The young girl turns on her heels, stomping her feet as she throws a genuine temper tantrum amidst her journey into the family room; away from her mother, away from the glee club, away from everything.

Shelby doesn't follow her. Rachel knew that she wouldn't; the girl was famous for her dramatic outburst, and experience shows that the best remedy for when she gets like this is to simply leave her alone.

The only thing that she knows for certain is that she cannot be inside of this house anymore. She can't continue to be trapped in here amongst those that can only look at her with remorse and pity upon her face as they proclaimed their determination to sing and dance on stage in her honor while subsequently leaving her out of it.

Rachel Corcoran prizes her independence; to take that away from her is possibly one of the worst fates that she can imagine, except for maybe the loss of her voice…

She needs room to think, she needs room to breathe… She needs to get the hell out of here.

Eyeing her surroundings carefully, Rachel recognizes the idea that she is alone inside of the family room, tiptoeing carefully as to not attract attention to herself towards the back door.

It is a bad idea, a terrible idea in fact, the notion of sneaking from her home without anybody's knowledge simply to blow off some steam, Rachel knows this, but at the same time, she perceives it as necessary, a rite of passage, something that she positively _needs_.

So with absolutely no moves, and nothing but time and her hands with her mind much too restless to so much as consider unwinding, Rachel slides the back door open quietly, walking from her home alongside the understanding that her single means of escape is to sail her ship straight towards the sky and to never return.

* * *

><p>The second that it begins to rain outside, Rachel finds herself grateful… At least now people wouldn't be able to distinguish between the rain water and her actual tears.<p>

She has absolutely no idea where it is that she is headed; all of these roads, all of the sidewalks, they're transforming all around her into giant veins and arteries, none of which ever actually lead to any sort of a heart.

She has been gone for nearly ten minutes now, slipping straight from her home without so much as a word. Ten minutes… she knows that in terms of simple perception, this does not seem like a lot, but in Rachel's world, it is a lifetime.

It is certain that by now, her mother has noticed that she has gone missing… She's probably called for the members of the glee club, as well as Mr. Schuester to form a search party and who knows; maybe she's even called in the police by now.

Either way, Rachel is certain that her walk will be short lived. She is bound to be found out eventually, and the tightness in her chest, the pains of her exertions accompanied by a pounding inside of her head and a searing pain crawling up her very bones with every step that she takes tells Rachel that maybe, this is actually for the best.

The second that the nausea begins to creep familiarly against her stomach, Rachel begins to understand that perhaps, this brief walk wasn't the best idea that she has ever had… The reminder grows ever more painful the second that she realizes that if she can't even walk for ten minutes without growing ill, than how the hell was she supposed to get up on a stage to sing and dance?

Yet another reminder of the idea that everybody but her seems to have been right all along in regards to her health.

This lack of control is starting to take its toll on Rachel… It has been three weeks and still, she can't seem to get a hang on the idea that maybe she couldn't quite do everything that she used to be able to do anymore.

Everybody around her are putting their best efforts into making her better again, yet here she was, impeding their work based on nothing more than a fierce determination to retain a sense of normalcy when reality screamed that there was absolutely nothing normal about any of this at all.

She had left her home alongside the idea that the wind, or at the very least, the rain would be enough to take her to wherever it was that she needed to go, but the further that Rachel moved, the further that the water seemed to rise up all around her, drowning her, begging her to slow down when the least that she can ever do is only move faster.

She is just about to turn around, just about to head back home when the beeping of a horn in the background forces her to turn back around… The second that she sees her brother's car rolling to a halt behind her, it is the least that Rachel can do to contain an eye roll that she wants nothing more than to express.

It seems that she has been right all along about Shelby's makeshift search party… It is the first damn thing that she has been right about all day.

"Are you insane?" Noah hasn't even opened the car door yet and he is already yelling, moving hurriedly as he climbs from his car, standing before her in the rain so that his clothes soak through almost immediately, "Mom is going crazy back at the house. She has the entire freaking glee club out looking for you and she's about two minutes away from calling the cops!"

"What do you care?" Noah's revelation makes Rachel dread her return home even more than she already does; she snaps at him, perhaps unfairly with an undeserved expression of anger… It wasn't as if it was her brother's fault, her life being shot straight to hell, it was just that she needed someone, anyone to blame, and Noah just so happened to be standing right in front of her.

"Just because you're running off being a dumbass doesn't mean that I don't care when you go ahead and start making a habit out of disappearing and trying to get yourself killed!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Rachel yells back, waving off Noah's insistencies alongside the idea that he was much too out of the loop from his distancing himself in these past weeks to effectively place any sort of judgment upon her.

"You know, I would have been less mad at you if you'd just stolen my damn car… It's a mess out here Rachel, what were you thinking?" His worry emanates through heating yelling… The only reason that Rachel is forced to stall is to marvel at the idea that this is the most that her brother has spoken to her in weeks, "Now stop being so selfish and get in the damn car!"

"I'm not being selfish!" Rachel spits back, her words radiating with a pang that forces her to pause, to consider Noah's words despite her verbal defiance…

Was she being selfish?

"What, do you call running out on the glee club when all they're trying to do is help you, and knowing full well that mom would freak out by your disappearing but still leaving anyway an act of valor?" He spells the situation out clearly as if she didn't already know any of this herself, ticking off the conditions by which he perceived her selfish behavior on her fingers, silently confirming her deepest of fears with each raised digit… "That's selfish, Rachel."

"Mom's gotta learn eventually how to live without me," Rachel raves like a lunatic, her innermost subconscious spewing in her raid against her own sanity as she throws her arms up in exasperation, watching as Noah's face falls rapidly, "I might as well help her ease into it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Noah scowls, curious, yet at the same time fearful towards the path that Rachel is currently turning down.

"I'm not being selfish, Noah. I'm just… I'm confused is all," Rachel falters, painfully aware of just how unlike herself this is… A growing pool of confidence miniaturized in a rush of self doubt in under sixty seconds flat… Yet through this pain, she finds light in the reminiscence towards how things used to be between her and Noah before they had begun fighting… She can't help but to lean into it, to embrace it, to pull it even closer into her.

"Can we forget that we're fighting for a minute so that you can be my big brother right now?" Rachel watches Noah carefully as he pauses to consider her offer, briefly fearful that he might say no although eventually, he offers her a soft nod of the head, turning towards his car in an effort to silently indicate to Rachel to go inside.

She obliges willingly for the first time all day, settling into the passenger's seat as Noah shuts the engine off of his car, silently indicating that he is willing to stay in this very spot just so long as Rachel needed her big brother.

"Okay…"

For the briefest of seconds, the only sound that filters around them is the panging of rain drops as they dance about the metal shell of Noah's rickety old car… Rachel finds herself breathing subconsciously heavier, simply in an effort to fill the empty gaps… She sucks a wispy breath between her teeth, pretends that if she listens hard enough, she can actually hear her heartbeat fluttering against her ribcage until finally, she speaks.

"I don't want to act like the sick kid anymore. I don't know how to _be_ the sick kid anymore… But I am, and for the first time in my life that I actually remember, not everything is about singing and Broadway anymore, it's about finding a way to survive until tomorrow…" Rachel tries not to think as she speaks, tries to radiate the truth from the deepest pit of her heart as to not botch her admittance before Noah, who is finally all ears, "I can feel myself getting more and more tired and sick and weak every single day and I'm not sure how much longer I can put on this brave face."

"Then why are you trying to put on a brave face?" Noah asks her for an answer that not even Rachel is sure that she has, "You have more of an excuse than anybody to show your vulnerabilities."

"That isn't who I am Noah. You know that… after all, we're both exactly the same." Rachel breathes softly through a smile, "I need to be brave right now, I know that."

"You don't have to be brave all the time." Noah shakes his head slowly, expressing his genuine disagreement towards his younger sister's statement, "We all fade sometimes, Rachel."

"That's why I need somebody to help me…" Rachel extends her invitation, silently trying to convince herself that she is dragging him into this simply for the sake of excitement, when reality screams that it has more to do with her ability to survive those long nights simply by knowing that there is somebody else besides you out there in this deep, wide world. "I can't breathe anymore, Noah… I can't sleep, I _don't_ sleep… All I do is think about what it might have been like if none of this ever happened."

"We all have to transition right now, Rachel." Noah offers back to her, a sense of honesty, and his words are truthful… Sure, they may not be fair, but Noah understood the skewed concept of fairness more than anybody else, Rachel knows… He may be barely seventeen years old, but still, it doesn't take too long to understand that what we deserve in life is the one thing that we rarely get when living like this. "For me it's about being afraid of going back to what I was before… The day that me and Karofsky fought… I'm paying the consequences for what I did right now, Rachel but still, I'm terrified that I'll let myself get lost in all of that again, and if I do… I don't think that I'll make it this time."

"Maybe we can both lean on each other for a little while."

"I'll take care of you, Rachel," Noah offers this promise and differences amongst them or not, this time when Noah says it, Rachel believes him. "The only thing that you need to do is just to keep on breathing, and whenever you need me, I'll be there."

"I yelled at Santana last night." Rachel vaguely confirms that she had heard Noah, and that she was willing to accept her brother's offer not by giving him a simple yes or no answer, but by continuing to inform him of her truthful insecurities, her fears, her dashed hopes… "I feel bad about it, losing my temper at her."

"Welcome to my world…" Noah laughs gently, but the second that he realizes that Rachel will not reciprocate the action, the motion falls from his eyes just as quickly as it had arrived to begin with… Rachel almost regrets this motion; she misses being able to see that smile dancing behind his eyes.

"It made me think of dad." She slowly delves deeper and deeper, propelling into ideas deep inside of her heart's subconscious that not even she knew she was thinking about, "Losing control like that…"

"You too?" Rachel perks upwards towards Noah's confession, towards the idea that maybe she wasn't alone, that she wasn't losing her mind alongside the reminder of just how strong the tendency to remember only the things that you wanted to forget the most truly was.

"All I can think about is that we lost him the last time that I got sick… I'm afraid that I'm going to lose you or mom this time around." Her voice shakes as she confesses her deepest of fears, unable to hide the effect that they've had on her to her brother, "We got abandoned, Noah… I know that our father left us but please… you can't leave me too, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere Rach, I promise." He shakes his head gently, his eyes dipping downwards so that Rachel's are practically forced to meet with his own, "But can I give you some advice?"

"Sure,"

"Don't kill yourself to try and raise the dead, okay?" Rachel's eyebrows arch dramatically. She isn't entirely certain what Noah means by this. "Take it from me, it doesn't work… The only thing that's going to happen is that you end up joining them."

"Okay," Rachel nods her head softly, pretending that she understands what it is that her brother is saying when in reality the only thing that she truly does understand is that maybe this is an idea that Rachel would have to find out on her own…

She just can't seem to decide whether or not she actually wants to.

"Can we please stop fighting?" Rachel breathes suddenly, turning into Noah alongside the understanding that she's well aware that she'd initially asked him for a temporary cease fire for but a few brief minutes, but that their interaction has only made her crave a more permanent affair, "I miss having my brother all the time…"

"Me too…" Noah nods in his agreement, Rachel releasing a heavy sigh of relief towards Noah's not choosing to hold this grudge against her… Of course, they still had a lot to talk about, a lot of unanswered questions to discuss, but for now at least, she was comfortable alongside the idea that he would be there for her whenever she was ready, "Besides I've been looking around for a hero these days, and you've been looking like you might need somebody to save."

"I think that I'm going to be the one needing a hero after mom gets through with me." Rachel corrects him, shuddering at the mere thought of inevitably facing her mother upon her return home.

"You're right about that…" Noah laughs as he turns the keys within the ignition, starting his car once more, more relieved than anything that for once in his life, it wasn't him that was about to get into trouble, but Rachel, "Now come on let's get you out of here… If I don't have you home before this rain clears, mom will call the SWAT team on the both of us."

* * *

><p>When Rachel finally does walk through the front door of her home, she does so with a sneaky silence that she knows is a worthless effort.<p>

There is not a single doubt in her mind that Shelby is currently standing on the other side waiting for her… Which is why she is so surprised when she turns inside of the living room with a prepared cringe only to find that it is empty.

The glee club is gone, probably all still running around the town like a bunch of lunatics looking for her. The house is quiet, in fact, it seems downright empty…

For a couple of brief seconds, Rachel falsely believes herself safe, in the clear for at least a couple of minutes in order to emotionally prepare for Shelby's return… She stupidly lets her guard down, finds herself just beginning to wonder whether or not she could safely steal away into her bedroom and hide just long enough for the dust to settle when an angry stomping has her muscles tensing once more.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Shelby rounds the corner into the living room with a look adorning her face capable of murder in itself… Rachel's eyes fall away from those of her mother's simply out of a genuine fear for her life.

"I'm sorry…" Rachel mutters a worthless apology; her words will mean nothing, none strong enough to genuinely express the regret that she feels towards making her mother so frantic in her desperate need for escape.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Shelby repeats herself, her voice growing exponentially louder as she subtly hints that Rachel's apologies are not nearly enough to defend her nearly giving her mother a heart attack, never mind the few extra gray hairs that have popped out on top of her head.

"It was stupid. I know that it was stupid, okay?" Rachel pleads her case, but it gets her nowhere; instead, Shelby's eyes turn inwards, burning a hole even thicker into her daughter as she advances slowly towards the girl so that Rachel can't help but to shrink back out of fear that while she hadn't ended up killing herself on her little outing this morning, Shelby was more than willing to do it for her.

"Stupid isn't exactly the right word for it, Rachel…" Her tone changes, disappointment ringing through her words in a manner that has Rachel feeling strangely worse than she had when Shelby had been yelling at her, "Suicidal may be more appropriate."

"Where did you find her?" She changes direction, turning to face Noah; unable to speak with Rachel any longer for fear that she would do something that she would later regret… Her eyes are tired, but at the same time, she sounds appreciative of her son's successful efforts to locate her youngest.

"Off on Whales Street… down by the park." Noah answers immediately, not daring to so much as hesitate as Shelby closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths; in and out, and in and out. Her children are knowingly silent, experience telling them to stand still and wait to be addressed.

"Go and dry off…" Shelby finally opens her eyes once more after several seconds that feel like hours, her voice remarkably calmer as she pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as if this brief meditation had actually succeeded in its desired effect, "Be back down here in five minutes… We're having a family meeting."

Rachel scampers, thankful for an excuse to get away from the scene for a minute or two as she darts into her bedroom and makes quick of changing her clothes and wrapping a warm towel about her soaking wet hair.

She is not looking forward to this so called 'family meeting', she is not looking forward to it at all, of course she knows that should she linger past her five minute deadline for so much as half a second, she will have even more hell to pay than she already does… She makes quick of performing her assigned duties before turning back towards the stairwell, taking the brief amounts of time that she does have left to extend her motions as slowly as humanly possible.

She follows her mother and brother's hushed voices into the kitchen. They are seated across from one another at the dining room table, silencing immediately upon Rachel's arrival so that she becomes all too aware of the idea that they had been talking about her.

"Sit, Rachel…" Rachel takes a deep breath as she prepares for the verbal berating that she is undoubtedly about to receive. She doesn't want to sit, she would much rather stand here, a safe distance from her vengeful mother and close enough to the door that she might actually have a chance of running for it should Shelby start throwing things, but her legs betray her, they carry her into a seat directly between her mother and Noah, sitting her down before she can so much as recognize what it is that she is doing.

They're silent for several seconds, tension building painfully between them in a manner that Rachel knows Shelby has strategically planned… This is worse than torture; Rachel can't help but to think.

Hell, it was worse than cancer.

"I understand that you want more freedom Rachel, and maybe you do deserve it…" Shelby speaks finally, a startling confession that highlights a compromise that has Rachel unable to help but to dart her head upwards to look Shelby in the eyes for the first time since her arrival home, "You aren't a child anymore… you aren't four years old this time around… That's something that I seem to be forgetting lately."

"But at the same time you have to understand that things need to change around here. Things aren't the same as they were before." There it is; that almighty _but_ tacked on against the middle of Shelby's speech that has Rachel's back sinking in her disappointment towards the understanding that maybe a compromise wasn't something that she was going to get from Shelby after all. "There aren't going to be anymore secrets inside of this house. We are all going to start being honest with each other starting now… So why don't you kick us off Rachel? What's going on inside of that head of yours?"

"This is just starting to take a lot out of me, mom… this whole _transitioning_ thing." Rachel shakes her head gently, indicating that she wasn't exactly certain where to begin, but that the big picture seemed like a hell of a good place to start, "I don't have a whole lot left to go on is all."

Shelby's eyes fall sadly upon the identical ones of her daughter… Rachel can see it inside of the older woman's face; she wants to tell Rachel that things will get easier, she wants to tell her that everything is going to be okay, but at the same time, her distinct inability to lie to either of her children prevents any of this from actually happening…

Instead, Shelby falls silent.

They linger on a shallow edge, the small trifecta of a family tense as each member scrambles internally for something, anything that they could possibly say next… Instead, they find themselves jumping as a synchronized group as the sound of the front door slamming open and shut once more jolts them back into a conscious reality that they had almost forgotten even existed.

"I checked the football field, the choir room and everything in between… I didn't see her Mrs. Corcoran," Santana's voice echoes throughout the entirety of the house; she sounds winded and out of breath as if she had just run a marathon… Rachel has to remind herself that in her on foot search for Rachel, she probably just did… It would have warmed her heart, the idea of Santana Lopez running frantically about Lima in search for her, if the entire idea of them being anything other than enemies didn't still so desperately confuse her, "Brittney and the rest of them are still looking but…"

"It's okay Santana!" Shelby calls from her seat inside of the kitchen, Santana's footsteps walking with a slowed, calmer motion as she follows the woman's voice naturally, "Noah found her."

"Oh…" Her voice calms distinctly as she rounds into the open doorway that separates them, clutching onto the wall for support as her chest slowly slows from its rapid up and down motions… Her eyes twitch quickly across the three Corcoran's as she shrinks back down in apparent embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, I'll just… I'll just go get ready for school."

"No Santana, maybe you should listen to this too," Shelby beckons the girl back quickly, halting Santana mid-stride as she slowly turns to face the family, clearly confused yet expressing a sense of joy towards the invitation, "As long as you're living here, we're all abiding by the same rules anyway."

Santana nods appreciatively, walking slowly and cautiously towards them, still apparently unsure of her motions as she pulls the chair across from Rachel out from beneath the table, its legs scraping with a shriek across the tile as she sits… Rachel is immediately flooded with warmth, she is strangely comfortable with the idea of Santana sitting here, filling the fourth chair at their dining room table for the first time since the void had been created by her father over a decade ago.

"Here's the deal, I need to know where you all are at all times… Rachel, you are not allowed to leave this house without my permission," Rachel should have known that Shelby's ground rules were about to come out… Now that they had coasted past all of the emotional necessities, Shelby was now free to safely lay down the law… "Secondly, you're all expected to help out around this house; cooking, keeping this place clean is a necessity, keeping track of taking your medication…" Her eyes drift dangerously towards Rachel, "Also, there will be a curfew around here from now on. Noah and Santana, ten o'clock on weekdays, midnight on weekends… and Rachel…"

Shelby pauses strategically… It did not go unnoticed by Rachel that Shelby had distinctly left her name out of the curfew establishment… The mother's eyes attach to those of her daughter as she eyes her in a manner that not even Rachel can avoid.

"You do not leave this house without me from now on… and for today, as punishment, you are not leaving my sight, not after that little stunt you just pulled," Rachel nods diligently; as obscene as these conditions appear to Rachel, she knows not to challenge them, "And the second that I see any signs that you may have caught something while you were out gallivanting into the wild, we're going straight to the emergency room, no questions."

"I had more freedom while I was still inside of the hospital…" Rachel groans inwardly, attempting to whisper her sentiments under her breath so that her mother would not hear them… She should have known that it never would have worked.

"Watch your tone because the hospital is exactly where you're going to end up if you don't start being more careful." Shelby makes it clear that despite Rachel's best efforts in masking her retort, Shelby has heard her loud and clear.

"Fine," Rachel rolls her eyes briefly, finalizing her agreement towards Shelby before standing forcefully, indicating her desire for this conversation to be over, "I'm freezing. I'm gonna go take a shower."

Rachel's motions towards the door begin slowly, tentative, but when Shelby does not immediately say anything regarding her voluntary departure, she begins to move her feet even quicker.

"Don't forget to cover your central line!" The only command that Shelby gives to Rachel regarding her departure is a quick instruction that Rachel is already more than aware of… She chooses not to respond verbally, instead, offering Shelby a quick wave as to indicate that she had heard her before disappearing in her entirety.

"Hey Corcoran!" She is wrapped in nothing more than a towel, balancing a handful of sterile bandages and waterproof coverings inside of her arms as she makes her way quickly towards the bathroom when she is called right back.

Santana's voice sounds threatening, dangerous… she can hear the Latina's stomping footsteps from all the way down the length of the hall… Rachel cringes as she turns, tensing as she embraces the idea of Santana wandering up to her only to deck her right in the face.

"Your little joy ride this morning just got me a curfew for the first time in my entire life."

"I… I'm sorry?" Her apology is released by means of being a question as she hikes the towel wrapped about her otherwise naked body higher against her chest, subconsciously hiding the catheter protruding from the center of her chest, forever embarrassed by the physical manifestations of her disease.

"It's fine," Santana shrugs, her muscles relaxing in the offering of a joke so that Rachel's reciprocate right alongside her, "It's not like I actually go anywhere anymore anyway."

"Oh… well, I'm still sorry… I'm sorry anyway." Rachel murmurs, watching as Santana's brows arch with a clear confusion, "I mean about what I said to you last night… I'm sorry."

"Yeah well, don't go making a habit of it." Santana waves off the girl's apology before pushing past her gently, following in Rachel's footstep straight towards the bathroom.

"Um… where are you going?" Rachel pauses; she had thought it been obvious, her being en route towards the shower.

"I have to get ready for school… Jesus, Corcoran, I'm not gonna friggen stare at you while you're trying to take a shower." Santana rolls her eyes, shrugging as if this is obvious as she brushes towards the sink, flipping her toothbrush inside of her mouth, "Because of you, I'm gonna be late for school now… How do you guys exist with only one bathroom in this house anyway? I'm flattered Rachel, really I am, but you're not my type… We still have a long way to go, Corcoran, don't you forget that."

"What is your type?" Rachel blurts stupidly, prying into something that she knows is none of her business despite the idea that Santana doesn't seem to be particularly affected by it.

"Blondes,"

"Hey, have either of you seen my hat?"

Rachel groans outwardly as Noah continues to shatter her modesty even further than it has already been broken, barging through the still-open bathroom door.

"What the hell is this, a convention?" Rachel makes her frustrations known, rolling her eyes as she continues to pull the knot in her towel tighter against her chest.

"Whatever Rachel, because of you I don't have time to do my hair, so have you seen it?" He becomes the second person in under two minutes to blame her brief getaway for his reduction of time, Rachel having deterred him from pouring a solid hour into perfectly gelling the miniscule amount of hair that he does have on top of his head…

His mohawk lays flat about his scalp; it is clear that he has not received a haircut in weeks so that what hair he does have looks more like a dead animal than anything else.

"I've been wearing your hat all morning." Rachel informs him matter-of-factly, his eyes darting upwards and towards the top of her head as if he was half expecting her to be wearing it even in the shower, "Thanks for noticing."

"You were wearing a hat before?" Rachel can't help but to roll her eyes towards her brother's lack of attentiveness…

"My hair, Noah!" She reminds him, exasperation laced upon her voice as she thrusts her index finger towards the top of her head and the clear markings of her increasingly exposed scalp… As if _she_ needed the reminder herself.

"Oh… yeah," Noah waves off her excuse as a petty condition that he cannot nearly understand… He acts as though he wouldn't have a genuine panic attack should his mohawk start falling out at this exact moment, and he didn't even have a quarter of the hair atop his head that she did. "Why don't you just hack it all off, it's falling out anyway."

"Because I want to savor the last moments that I have left without being a hideous turnip head, thanks for the consideration, Noah!"

"You're being such a drama queen, come over here…" Noah beckons his sister closer towards him as he turns away towards the long cabinet behind him, digging through it only briefly before he emerges brandishing his personal electric razor.

"Noah…" Rachel shakes her head uncertainly… Hadn't she just explained to her brother that she wanted to _savor_ the last few days with hair that she had left, not hasten the process?

"Before you say anything, I want you to carefully remember that the last time that I did this for you, I ended up with thirteen stitches in my forehead." Noah plugs the device into the wall outlet, pointing it towards her like a weapon before turning it on, allowing it to buzz softly inside of the palm of his hand, "So you don't get to say anything."

He doesn't hesitate, doesn't pause as if he knows that should he stop to think about it for so much as another second, he would back out of his plan in its entirety… He takes a deep breath as he raises his arm, allowing the steady influx of oxygen to fuel his motions as he lifts the blade to the center of his head and cleanly swipes it backwards, hacking the majority of his precious mohawk off in one fell swoop.

"Noah!" Rachel shrieks in her surprise; while she had expected Noah to practically attack her with the razor blade, hold her to the ground while he hacked her hair to pieces, she had definitely not expected him to part ways with his own sacred head of hair.

"Now come on, if I can do it than so can you." He beckons towards her with his finger; she hesitates, eyes darting back and forth between her brother and Santana, who raises a questioning eyebrow towards the scene before her as if she believes either herself, or them to be going crazy.

"Don't look at me, Ru Paul," Santana shoos the girl away from her, afraid that Rachel was starting to get ideas of her own regarding her prized head of hair, "I may be out of the closet now, but that doesn't mean that I'm ready to get a crop top."

"I was just looking for a suggestion…" Santana, it appears, is as much a dramatic as both Shelby and Rachel combined… This living situation, Rachel is very much aware, should be interesting.

"No matter what you do, Stubbles, you're still going to look like a transsexual ostrich," Santana informs her all-knowingly, "So I say go for it."

"Thanks, Santana…" Rachel laughs through a short shake of her head; Santana's insults were proving a lot easier to take alongside the acknowledgment that at least this time they were not meant in ill humor… Rachel turns away from the Latina, Santana had provided to her, the most advice that she was willing to offer, and she had proved absolutely no help in Rachel's pleading of the cause to be a bad one.

Seeing no other way out of this mess, Rachel groans quite profoundly in the presence of her brother and his still-buzzing electrical razor, clenching her eyes shut as she nods to him, the final bit of approval that he is waiting for.

"Excellent…" He grins mischievously, hovering over her with her head at his mercy, leaving her capable to do no more than to take a deep breath and to flinch as the blade descends upon, and touches her skin for the first time.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, so a lot of these last reviews came in anonymously, I'm not sure if all you guys were just being shy this week, or if there was just some kind of glitch on the website, but I responded to them from order of first to last so that you know which one is yours. <strong>

**Thank you! Finn and Rachel are going to start running into problems soon enough, a few that you may not like but it's gonna lead to some serious problems between the two… As Rachel progresses in her treatments, she's not going to have the time to be thinking about dating much of anybody for a while. Also, the amount of Puckleberry will outnumber the amount of Finchel by a long shot coming up.**

**Yup, Rachel is definitely getting there! She still has a very long way to go but she's getting there. Thank you for the review!**

**Thank you! I am truly honored. I got a bit overeager writing this chapter, hence the length, but I'm glad you enjoyed it. I love writing Rachel's POV, I love writing all three of them, and I seem to always bounce between which is my favorite to write, but it's usually a pretty close race between Noah and Rachel… A lot of Noah's story line is that he is going to have a hard time finding a healthy medium in his coping, his way of dealing with things tends to get a little bit reckless and unhealthy, but they will work through it. He's pissed at the situation as a general whole, Rachel being sick, Karofsky, catching his best friend with his little sister, it's all kind of accumulating into one big bad mood for Noah. Hope you enjoyed that little scene on the end there, I added it for you :)**

**Thank you so much! Your English is excellent I can't even notice a difference. Your kind words meant the world. Truly they're appreciated more than you know. I'm glad you liked Quinn's visit because she will definitely be back, and the next chapter or two will have a lot of Rachel and Shelby moments thanks to Rachel's continuous insistencies to act out… Rachel and Shelby (and probably Noah as well) are eventually going to have to have a conversation regarding what Rachel wants should things take a sudden turn for the worse. It's gonna be a tough conversation, Shelby and Rachel are going to have very different views on the matter but they'll eventually learn to listen to one another. Thanks again for the review. **

**Glad you enjoyed, she's got a few more chapters coming up soon!**

**Resurrectedhippo – No need to apologize, I am the queen of taking forever to review so you are at least way ahead of me. I agree, I have a love hate relationship with long chapters too, writing them is a bitch but then again I always feel like I got what I wanted out of the chapter. I'm going to try to cut them a bit shorter though, I don't have a very large window for writing every day and I feel bad going so long between updates. There's a bit of a love interest in the works for Rachel, but I'm not sure that it will truly last, her relationship with Santana and Quinn is going to skyrocket, she's looking for friends to be able to latch onto at the moment, and they are going to be those friends. Thank you so much for your review and all of your amazing words, they mean a lot! **


	33. Rachel Corcoran December 2011 Part I

**Hey all! Had a bit of writer's block with this one plus I ended up getting super distracted trying to plan out the rest of the story to the end, but I've got some big stuff planned ahead so I hope you enjoy!**

**Rachel Corcoran** – December 2011

_(Part I)_

Sixteen years ago to this very day, Rachel Corcoran had been born dying.

Sixteen years, two decades; a pretty significant chunk of time, or at least, one may see it that way when it is all that they have ever been alive for…

Point being, sixteen years ago to this very day, Rachel Corcoran had been born dying, but things have not seemed to change very much since then.

Rachel wakes up early on the morning of her sixteenth birthday simply grateful for the opportunity to have done so. There is a familiar pang of nausea ringing inside of her stomach, forcing her from the depths of her sleep alongside the reminder that cancer does not seem to care about milestones such as birthdays.

The drugs that are simply trying to ensure that she lives to see another one don't seem to have the time to celebrate alongside her.

The fog takes a remarkably long time to clear, parting alongside a bizarre feeling that creeps up the length of her very spine. It is uncomfortable, painful, an unfamiliar tingling that deviates from even her typical aches and pains…There is a sweltering that settles across her lower back, it pits indefinitely, makes its presence well known…

Her conscience is screaming for her to inform somebody, _anybody_ of this latest development. She has been conditionally trained since childhood to report any sense of abnormality, yet ultimately, her inner voice produces no sound.

Rachel practically forces herself out of the comforts of her own bed, one single glance towards her clock informing her that to linger any longer would be reckless seeing as how her mother was probably minutes away from being outside of her door, insisting that something was wrong and refusing to leave her alone until she finally admitted to this…

Of course, for all intents and purposes, this might have been beneficial to Rachel had she not been so held up on her desperation to simply not be a part of it right now.

Strolling casually into the bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway, Rachel ensures that she creates as much noise as possible, simply to ensure her family that she had woken to see another day, and was feeling well enough to be moving about…

Her gut feeling tells her to take advantage of this privilege while she still can.

Rachel still can't help but to struggle to pay much attention to her own image inside of the mirror on the rare occasion that she does allow herself to be within eyeshot of her own reflection…

She has predictably lost a relatively significant amount of weight since beginning chemotherapy, weight that she couldn't afford to lose to begin with… Despite all of the warnings to keep her nutrition up, the precautions of what might happen should she not, Rachel has since become skeletal… Her cheekbones jut prominently, emphasizing the profound facial structure that she has inherited from her mother… Her collarbones and upper ribs emerge from the neckline of her tank top, creating a shadow across the mirror that is almost enough to blind her…

Ever since her brother had given her an impromptu buzz cut, Rachel had considered herself resembling more and more, one of her Barbie dolls whose hair her brother used to sheer off simply just to torture her when they had been younger… The damage had always been done, the most significant amount eliminated, but there had always been that miniscule, tiny little fragment of nylon fibers that Noah could never quite get to… No matter how hard he hacked away at them with their mother's kitchen scissors.

The state of her exposed scalp didn't bother her, or at least, she pretended with relatively descent results that it didn't bother her, but the truth was that every day, Rachel wakes up holding onto her last wisps of hair, of eyebrows, of her damn eyelashes for Christ's sake…

She pretends that it doesn't bother her but the truth is that it does… It truly does.

Rachel drops her face deep inside of the sink basin below her, ducking her eyes below mirror level as she scrubs at her teeth with a specialized, single use sponge brush that the hospital had provided her a box of following her departure, her chemotherapy sessions making it so that even brushing her teeth couldn't be a normal act any longer; her rapidly diminishing immune system leaving her at an overwhelming risk for developing painful mouth sores… as well as other things.

"Rachel!"

The girl jumps at the sound of her own mother's voice so that her toothbrush nicks the tip of her gums in a manner that has her tasting the irony clang of blood almost immediately…

This day, it seems, is only getting better and better.

"Yeah, mom?" Rachel responds carefully, attempting to mask the gurgling on a combination of her own blood and saliva as she makes haste in pouring a cupful of water into her mouth, sloshing its contents about carefully.

"Are you okay up there?" Rachel spits into the basin; the water is diluted pink with her own blood…

_No_, Rachel can't help but to think. "Yes!"

"Are you sure?" Shelby's voice is growing closer; Rachel knows that slowly, she is making her way upstairs and towards the bathroom, leaving Rachel's heart constricting with panic as she begins to desperately stuff wads of toilet paper between her gum and her lip.

"Yes mom!" Rachel attempts to make her voice sound as clear as humanly possible despite the current obstruction… She isn't entirely sure why it is that she's so nervous about her mother finding her bleeding; a cut on her lip is just about the least of Rachel's worries at the moment.

Her subconscious reminds her that her fear buries deeper in the guarantee of Shelby's attempting to force out of her daughter, the state by which she had woken up in earlier this morning.

"Okay," Shelby concedes easily, her voice is retreating. Rachel is safe. For now. "Hurry up and come on downstairs, we have something for you!"

"Yeah, okay," Rachel's voice radiates naturally but on the inside she is sweating in her panic of the prospect of facing her mother right now at anything less than her very best, "I'll be down in a minute!"

Rachel buys herself some time, continuously dumping handfuls of water inside of her mouth, gurgling experimentally until her spit finally begins to come back to her clear… By some miracle, she has stopped bleeding.

Placing her hands gently against either side of the sink basin, Rachel grips at the porcelain so tightly that she's positive that she will leave bruises imprinted against the insides of her palms… Yet one more burden that she will be forced to hide from her mother.

_You can do this, Rachel_.

The girl provides herself with a motivational pep talk from inside of her own head, splashing but a handful of cool water against her face in a physical action implemented to ensure that she be able to get away with what she is not actually certain she will be able to pull off.

When she finally does make her way down the stairs, her family is making attempts at trying to be discrete although Rachel secretly knows that they would never miss out on an opportunity to congratulate her for making it another year when reality tells them that life is something that should have stopped for Rachel before it had even begun.

There is chaos inside of the kitchen so that for the first couple of seconds, they don't even notice that Rachel is standing directly inside of the doorway…

Shelby is shouting orders from her pedestal in the center of the kitchen, Santana and her Aunt Krista dancing pirouettes about her as Noah slaves above the breakfast that is cooking over the oven, pausing only to drink directly from the open container of orange juice directly besides him.

"Cups, Noah! We have cups for a reason!" Shelby scolds her son, swatting him gently across the back of his shaved head with the folded newspaper in her hands, flipping only to throw it back down against the table when she finally spots Rachel, smirking in the corner towards the commotion that proceeds before her, "Happy birthday, sweetheart!"

Shelby moves quicker on her own two feet than Rachel has ever before seen, faster, the younger girl is certain, than she has moved in years…

The older woman's knees bend slightly, ducking her down the inch or two that she has on her own daughter as she wraps the girl up into a firm hug, squeezing Rachel to the point that her spine is compressed beneath her so that the pain still lingering deep against her back sparks upwards, travelling from her spine straight into her skull so that she can't help but to allow a brief whimper to escape her lips…

It is a motion that does not go unnoticed by Shelby, not even for a second.

"Are you feeling okay?" Shelby pulls Rachel's body away from her own, extending the girl at an arm's length, her fingers clamping down against Rachel's shoulders, eyes scanning up and down her body in search of the physical entity, the cause of distress that is eating her daughter alive from the very inside out.

"Yeah," Rachel nods, trying to sound as confident as humanly possible in her response, "Of course."

"Okay…" Shelby nods; she is not convinced, but at the same time, it is a cause that she deems capable of waiting until at the very least, Rachel has blown out her candles. "Come here, sit down…"

Shelby guides Rachel to the head of the table, sitting her before a massive plate of food that she can't help but to stare at with intimidation and trepidation written clear across her face… The smell alone is enough to remind her of the inevitable nausea, the guarantee that she will see everything before her once more, as soon as the chemotherapy starts to get the better of her.

"It's vegan…" Santana informs the girl from across the table, leaving Rachel to look downwards towards the egg omelette, smirking alongside the understanding that more likely than not, neither Santana nor Noah even knew what the term vegan meant. "Noah probably slipped some steak in there though, knowing him… Happy birthday, Corcoran."

"Thank you, Santana…" Rachel expresses her gratitude towards the young Latina's sentiments, embracing anything that she could possibly get from the girl as she swirls the meal before her about with her fork, looking downwards upon it with disdain alongside the acknowledgment that no one could be entirely certain of just how long it will remain inside of her system.

"Eat, Rachel…" Shelby studies her daughter meticulously. Experience and observation has taught her all of her daughter's ploys, all of her tactics, even her most clever of moves… Shelby Corcoran knows avoidance when she sees it.

"I am eating…" Rachel emphasizes her words with a quick bite of the potato at the corner of her plate, exaggerating her chewing as if to prove something, although it is a motion that Rachel already knows Shelby will never buy into.

"What are you not hungry?" Shelby is expertly vague in her questioning of whether or not Rachel is feeling well this morning; so much so that it almost throws off even Rachel herself as she gently shakes her head to indicate that Shelby is way off although they both know that she is not.

"I told you, I'm eating." Rachel takes another bite, but it twists painfully inside of the muscles of her stomach; she regrets it almost immediately.

"Well that's good, because you're going to need your strength for later. Don't forget that you have to be at the hospital in an hour for chemo." Rachel sighs audibly at the reminder as if she actually needed to be told twice that she would be spending the majority of her birthday having cytotoxic chemicals pumped into her system, and the rest of it feeling like absolute garbage.

"I thought that you were _trying _to get me to eat…" Rachel mutters sarcastically, her face turning downwards with disappointment as she sinks her chin into the open palm of her hand, elbows resting uninterested against the table in an express to visually express her anger towards the situation.

"Don't get smart with me." Shelby's response is immediate, natural, toned with years of experienced motherhood, "I have to drop you off at the hospital for your treatment but I have to go into work for a couple of hours today… I should be out by the time you're done."

"Okay," Rachel nods, attempting to sound neutral although she perks slightly alongside the idea that not only would she be getting some time to herself this morning, but that her mother was finally starting to do things for her for a change, having gone back to work on a part time basis ever since Rachel's treatments had been transferred to a strictly outpatient status; a fate, it seemed, that granted Rachel with some immunity against her normally continuous hovering.

"And don't forget to watch the TV while you're at the hospital… Your brother is being interviewed about States today, don't forget." Shelby reminds Rachel of her brother's scheduled fifteen minutes of fame, leaving Noah surprised in a manner that leaves him choking through a bite of toast.

"Don't forget to mention how your awesome sister made you into everything that you are today…" Rachel is only half joking as she relays her request for a shout out over towards her brother, who can only wave her off, seemingly uninterested about his television prospects.

"It's not like it matters or anything, the only thing that those reporters are gonna do is hound me about losing my Notre Dame scholarship anyway…" Noah speaks casually about his dramatic loss as if it has not affected him nearly as profoundly as Rachel knows that it actually has, "Fuck it, right?"

"Noah! Language, please… Can we just have one nice breakfast all together for once?" Shelby scolds him, but it is only because as his mother, she is obligated to… Her lecture fades into nothing more than an awkward silence that radiates about the table alongside the reminder of the less than inviting news that Noah had received just last week…

Jason Granderson had called Noah personally; the Notre Dame recruiter that had once been so enthusiastic about making Noah the starting running back for the Fighting Irish informing him that despite his best efforts, Notre Dame simply did not want somebody who was currently in the midst of a felony assault charge on their coveted roster… especially when his victim was one of his own teammates.

"Sorry, didn't mean to make things awkward…" Noah grumbles in his response to the continued silence, pushing his empty plate away from him before he stands aggressively away from the table, "I have to go get ready for school anyway."

The boy marches out without a single effort to stop him… Discomfort remains amidst the four girls still standing as the only sound that reaches any of their ears for several tense seconds is the scraping of Rachel's fork against the glass plate as she continues to toy with the food below her.

"I think that I should go talk to him…" Shelby mutters quietly, only after the distinct sound of Noah's pounding footsteps as he slams his way up the stairs and towards her bedroom have long dissipated.

Shelby pushes herself from the table, her chair sliding out from below her as she takes her time in making her way through the kitchen, moving as slowly as humanly possible as she attempts to come up with exactly what it is that she is going to say to her despondent son.

"I'm gonna go with her…" Her aunt makes the announcement only after Shelby has already disappeared from outside of the doorway, "Just in case your mother needs backup."

"I'm worried about him." Rachel is so surprised that Santana is the first to speak amidst the silence that she almost forgets the context by which the girl is speaking of entirely… "He's been off ever since…"

"Notre Dame…" Rachel finishes Santana's sentence for her as she recognizes the genuine concern for her brother from behind Santana's voice.

"Yeah…" Santana nods feebly, a reminder that Rachel is not the only victim of the distance that is ripping them further and further and further away from Noah, "I saw him hanging out with Mark Glover and all of them the other day… You know that group."

"Yeah… I know them…" Worry teams deep inside of the creases between Rachel's forehead… Noah had hung out with Mark Glover and his cronies once before, all throughout elementary school and middle school… up until the day that he had gotten expelled from the Titan school district, anyway.

It has been a long time since Rachel had been forced to show face in front of them, pretending to like them strictly for her brother's sake whenever they would come over to the Corcoran house to wreak havoc… But by now, they're general reputation about William McKinley High School involved their being the kids that you stayed away from by any and all means…

Not dangerous, unless otherwise instigated but at the same time, nothing less than pure trouble.

"Like I said," Santana sighs once more, simply to reinstate her initial purpose, "I'm worried about him."

"Yeah," Rachel breathes, hoping that her airiness is not mistook for a lack of interest… The thing was, Rachel has already watched her brother waste the beginnings of what could have been the best years of his life once more… She will be damned if she watches him go out that way once more.

"Me too."

Lima Memorial Hospital's outpatient chemotherapy clinic contains a grand total of thirteen television channels at any and all times.

Rachel finds this ironic, given the sheer amount of money that her family has paid simply to keep her alive, multiply that by the hundreds of patients that they see on a monthly basis and one might assume them a means to scrape up some additional funds for a satellite dish or something…

And as much as Rachel has enjoyed being granted the opportunity to receive her chemotherapy treatments on an outpatient basis, the daytime rush around here had a tendency to be dull, and just a little bit morbid.

For the most part, it was nothing more than a bunch of old people, trying to extend their last licks of life by a handful of weeks via a few toxic chemicals… Every time Rachel imagines her future as one of them, she decides that she would choose to off herself way before she was eighty years old and stuck inside of here…

The few kids besides herself that did make it around these parts cycled in and out silently, heads pointed down, feet dragging behind them as the begged quietly to be anywhere but here, spiraling through the thirteen channels of crap TV that they had available to them, struggling to decide whether or not they wanted to watch Jerry Springer, or the videos that all of the media students at William McKinley made for Titan TV.

Her fingers pound against the channel buttons seamlessly; she's rounded through the channels an upwards of fifty times already, looking for anything that could distract her from the unusual feeling of the chemotherapeutic drugs flooding through her catheter, the cool whooshing that floods through her chest with each and every drop.

Her eyes are wide and empty; she is watching the screen before her, but she isn't truly _watching_ so that the first time that she catches a glimpse of her brother, adorned in full football uniform and performing an impressive run across the highlight reel of his last football game, Rachel skips right over it.

Her heart immediately skips a beat of surprise; this is the most excitement that she has had all day, leaving her scrambling to turn backwards to the local news network, her brother's image having quickly disappeared for that of Ken Tanaka's as he smiles awkwardly and fidgets with his hands in a manner that tells Rachel that he's nervous…

She smirks appreciatively, the banner below Coach Tanaka's name endorsing the Titans' weekend bid to become state champions two years in a row leaving her beaming with pride towards her brother's accomplishments…

"Coach Tanaka, can you talk to us about the recent legal troubles that some of your players have gotten themselves into? Is it going to affect your means of playing at all, with some of your kids' history towards being violent with one another?"

The smile instantly vanishes from Rachel's face… She should have known that this wouldn't be about all of the good that Noah has been brought to the team, but instead all of the bad… Rachel is left fuming, her heart speeding exponentially although her eyes never leave the television as she awaits Ken Tanaka's answer, hoping that he could do at least something to make these people think that her brother was something more than the blood thirsty hooligan that they were currently making him out to be.

"Listen, we have a good football team here, we all know each other incredibly well and when you spend that much time with all of the same people, problems are bound to arise, that's just how it goes." He tries to detract the question, and for that, Rachel is appreciative, but she is also certain that his attempted tactic will never permanently work.

"But your captain was just arrested for the assault of a fellow teammate…"

"Listen, this is football; when we come out here, it's all about business, it's all about football and nothing else… Everything else we leave at home. We have a game to win out there on Friday night and that's it…" Rachel can tell that he is growing quickly frustrated towards their one track mind, and Rachel silently cheers him on, "Noah Corcoran, he's the type of player that gives his 110% all of the time, not just when he feels like it… It makes you feel blessed, you feel so blessed when you have the opportunity to spend the years with a young man who has been through everything that Noah Corcoran has been through and has both the talent as well as the moral strength to accomplish what this young man has accomplished… Listen, Noah… Noah has had a lot of bad cards dealt to him in his life and he has taken every single one of them and turned it into something better. That is who Noah Corcoran is… A lot of people just have a tendency to only see what they hear about in the newspapers or on TV, but Noah is a lot more than that, he just… he doesn't hear it enough is all."

"How are you doing in here, Rachel?" Rachel jumps slightly, so absorbed in Ken Tanaka's praise of her brother, the idea that there are but a handful of people on this planet that truly understands that Noah deserves so much more than he will ever get that she doesn't even notice her daily nurse as the woman strolls into Rachel's small cubicle.

"I'm fine…" Rachel's fingertips graze across the volume knob, lowering the television quickly just in case Coach Tanaka's words serve no effect on these blood thirsty reporters, just in case they continued to bash her brother in a manner that makes Rachel want to do nothing more but to prevent as many people from hearing the slanderous accusations as possible.

"No nausea?" She seems uninterested in the scene against the television before her; Rachel relaxes, but only slightly.

"Not yet." Her voice shakes slightly, and it doesn't go unnoticed by the woman standing before her, who pauses in the jotting of Rachel's chart to finally eye her suspiciously.

"You sure?"

"Of course," Rachel swallows through a nod in her bid to sound of confident as possible… Her mind is wandering rapidly. She can't help but to linger upon the pain that she had woken up to earlier this morning, how she had mentioned it to nobody but herself…

"Okay… I'll see what I can do about keeping it that way." She deems Rachel truthful, seeing no means by which she would want to lie as she evaluates the multitudes of drips dangling above Rachel's head, writes a few numbers into the girl's ever increasing medical file and finally allows the corners of her eyes to catch against the image displayed against the television screen…

"Hey, isn't that your brother?"

Rachel's heart skips a beat as her eyes dart sideways towards the screen before her… Her brother's eyes are staring directly into her own; his forehead scrunched like it always is when he is frustrated about something… His eyes narrow dangerously; Rachel holds her breath, she knows what Noah has been asked, and she can only hope that he doesn't lose his temper on TV… even if it is only local television.

_"I don't talk about that…"_ Rachel can hear her brother's voice even through the diminished volume, "You want to ask me football questions then I'll answer football questions. That's it."

They've asked him about Karofsky, Rachel is certain of it… It's the only thing that Rachel could think of anyway, that would get him so upset.

"Yeah," Rachel raises her voice, pride beaming from her every syllable, "He's being interviewed today for the state championship game this weekend."

"Good for him," The nurse smiles politely, she doesn't seem to notice, or at the very least, to even care about the current politics that are surrounding his team's dynamic, "Are you gonna go?"

"I plan on it…" Rachel nods, smiling genuinely for what seems like the first time in weeks, "My mom and I have been talking about it, but I think that I want to surprise him…"

"That'll be a nice surprise," She multi-tasks, toying with the three-pronged line that connects Rachel to the vital, life saving medication dangling above her head while simultaneously initiating conversation… It is proficiency that comes only with experience; this nurse has mastered it, her mother has mastered it, she can't help but to wonder if she ever will. "You're almost done here, Rachel… I'll come back in a couple of minutes to get you set up to leave."

"Okay…" Her smile is polite as she attempts to hide her anticipation of being homeward bound, putting this hospital far behind her and taking at least today to pretend as if she were a normal kid, celebrating a normal birthday…

"_How about this… I understand that your sister is currently fighting cancer." _Rachel's heart, previously soaring, sinks to her stomach… She had almost forgotten that the television in front of her was even on, despite it having previously occupied her full attention… When her eyes turn back upon Noah, she can tell instantly just by looking at him that his guard is already up… Rachel can only assume that this reporter had not gotten the hint when Noah had informed him that if they wanted answers from him, they were going to have to ask him about football… _"Will you be doing anything particularly special in this game tomorrow to honor her?"_

Rachel studies her brother's face carefully, desperate to read what it is that he is going to say before he actually says it, yet struggling to actually do so.

_"What do you mean?"_ His eyebrows arch, throwing him off of his game immediately… Clearly, he had not expected them to mention Rachel, despite the idea that her sob story always seemed to be a hot ticket item, always coming back to him in the end.

_"Let me ask you this, Noah?"_ The man rephrases his words carefully, resting his elbows gently against his knees so that he may lean closer into the boy, _"How does your sister feel about your football endeavors?"_

_"Rachel…"_ Noah pauses, considers his answer as he attempts to judge whether or not he likes the man currently standing before him; just as Rachel is currently trying to do, _"Rachel told me once before not too long ago now that we were going to win this game."_

_ "And you believe her?"_

_ "Well, yeah… I mean, Rachel is the one that got all of the smart genes in the family, so…" _Noah flashes to the man before him, his famous smile… Rachel pretends to roll her eyes towards her brother's attempts towards being charming, but the reality is that she's genuinely touched. _"But seriously, my sister has always been my biggest fan… Sometimes she's my only fan except for maybe, I don't know, my mom or something… But my mom has to cheer me on. Siblings… siblings are the kind of people that route against you just because they can, but not Rachel."_

Rachel can feel the corners of her lips tilting upwards… It is rare for Noah to gush so that Rachel knows when he does, she best take it to heart.

"Hey…" She is so entranced by the television that her boyfriend's presence across the otherwise closed curtain comes to her as even more a surprise than what it already was.

"Finn…" Rachel stumbles briefly over her words, "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd skip football practice to see how my girl was holed up in this hospital on her birthday," He flashes his famous smile, reaching around from behind his back to reveal a previously hidden bouquet of flowers, extending them towards Rachel, who accepts the gift gratefully.

"Thank you, Finn…" Rachel buries her face into the head of each rose, inhaling dramatically before resting the gift gently across her lap… Her heart begins to quicken naturally, simply in response to his presence. She only briefly wonders whether or not this will affect the chemotherapy coursing through her veins and whether or not it will in turn, make her grow sick sooner rather than later.

"Besides, your mom called Santana before to ask her to pick you up while she was stuck at work, but Santana has Cheerio's practice and Noah is too busy trying to pretend to smile in front of all of those reporter goons, and really it was just one whole big mess so here I am…"

"You're too sweet…" Rachel smirks gently, watching Finn's motions as he pulls a chair closer inwards towards her, adjusting his legs into a cramped position as he struggles to find a comfortable fit inside of her cramped cubicle.

"I saw you on TV too, you know…" Rachel nods her head over towards the television screen. Her brother's face has since disappeared, the scene once again transforming into a highlight reel of the Titans' impressive season. "Well, just a clip from the game a few weeks ago, but…"

"Oh yeah?" His eyebrows arch playfully as Finn leans closer into his girlfriend, offering her the gentlest of nudges against her leg, "How did I look?"

"You looked cute." The dimples deepen across Finn's face, the small divots reddening with both embarrassment and flattery as Rachel attempts to contain the smile towards what she'd caused.

"Okay Rachel, you're all set to go…" The same nurse that had ensured sufficient fluid flow through her catheter mere moments ago strolls back in through the cubicle, snapping a pair of latex gloves over her hands as she moves… Her motions are diligent, memorized and robotic… It takes her a moment to register the idea that there is suddenly an extra presence crowding the already small space, and when it does, her deviation from a regular routine brings her to a halt. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"No…" Rachel shakes her head, her body retreating naturally away from Finn for fear of getting caught… She can't help but notice that his motions are but one in the same.

"Who's this?" The nurse regains her bearings rapidly, and the moment that she does, it provides her with a care free ticket to pester Rachel about this mysterious boy as she pleases.

"Um… this is Finn…" Rachel flushes red as she explains this notion to the nurse that has known Rachel since she was four years old… At this point, introducing Finn to the hospital staff, was just as embarrassing as introducing him to her own family. "He's my… he's my boyfriend."

"Eh, you've done good Rachel!" The older woman laughs as she wraps a tight blood pressure cuff about Rachel's scrawny upper arm…

Rachel watches as Finn's eyes turn downwards. The girl is certain that Finn would not have been capable of a response to the nurse's open judgment even if he had been given the opportunity to do so… As it was, she silences him anyway, the second that she places the ear pieces of her stethoscope inside of her ears.

"Hmm… your blood pressure is a little bit low, Rachel…" Her fluidity is perfected with expertise; the woman has a reading within seconds, commenting on it aloud as she jots the numbers against the folder chart between her hands, "102/64."

"Is that bad?" Finn's voice erupts through the background with an obligatory tone of concern, unsure as to whether or not it is his place to speak, yet at the same time not willing to take the chance.

"It's not low enough to be concerned about just yet," The older woman shakes off Finn's concern as she disconnects the three forked catheter stuck through Rachel's breastbone from the source of its sole purpose… "I'll just leave a note to keep a closer eye on it tomorrow, and make sure that you tell your mother about it when you see her later…"

"I will," Rachel makes the promise, but this woman has known the girl seated before her long enough to know not to immediately trust her when it came down to things like this…

"Rachel…" Her eyebrows raise high into the air until they disappear against her hair line, warning the young girl with nothing more than a stern glance.

"I will!" Rachel's voice rises, slanting with the promise, "I swear."

"Okay," The woman nods, not entirely convinced yet at the same time, happy with everything that she has received, "Then you're all free to go."

Rachel slides out of her chair slowly, almost weakly with the reminder that this is not just some casual visit between her and her boyfriend today… She is unsteady against her knobby knees and scrawny limbs that she can never seem to properly grow into.

Finn quickly becomes her crutch; Rachel clutching onto the crook of his elbow as his muscles tense with the promised support, silently indicating that he is willing to wait to see what will come next for either of them.

"What was that all about?" Finn finally mutters as they approach the door… Concern drips from his voice, Rachel suddenly can't help but to feel as if she is clinging onto her constantly worrying mother, rather than her boyfriend, "What the nurse was saying before?"

"It's nothing," Rachel debunks his fears immediately, but Finn does not seem at all interested in changing the subject, "These things just have a tendency to happen from time to time."

"Can't you do anything about it?" His words seem too casual. Rachel doesn't have the heart to remind him of just how much weight they bear down upon him.

"Yeah," She tells him, "Wait for it to stop."

Rachel despises car rides alongside her theory that they are _always _awkward no matter who you were with or what the situation…

There was no balance, no means to proper conversation without risking distraction, and – no matter how hard you try – there is absolutely no direction to possibly turn for escape.

"If I told you something would you promise not to freak out?" Rachel freezes in her fidgeting with the passenger's side lock besides her, her finger clicking it upwards and back down repeatedly as she turns to face Finn, eyebrows raised curiously as her thoughts immediately explode with all that he can possibly have to tell her.

"Okay…" Rachel attempts to still her voice, to sound calm and collected while meanwhile, her head is exploding with all of the possibilities.

_What if he's breaking up with me?_

_What if all of this is finally getting to be too much for him?_

_What if he never wants to see me ever again?_

"It's kind of a secret."

"Did you kill somebody?" Rachel is really only half joking as she attempts to ease her racing thoughts with some compensatory humor.

"No," Finn's lips tilt gently upwards as he keeps his eyes fixated firmly on the road ahead of him and shakes his head gently.

"Are you secretly a woman?" Rachel eases her own train of thought as Finn responds to her question with a heavy laugh that lightens the lines of worry from beneath his eyes, alongside a firm headshake that confirms that his answer is indeed _no_.

"No, I'm not secretly a woman…"

"Okay," Rachel plants herself firmer into her seat, sinking beneath the cushions below, bracing herself for the absolute worst as she delivers the dreaded signal indicating for Finn to continue, "What is it?"

"I've been talking with a recruiter…" The smile vanishes instantly from his eyes as they begin to dart sideways towards Rachel, trying to evaluate her visible response without being too obvious although he must know that he is…

"A recruiter?" Rachel's forehead scrunches with confusion, unsure as to what her boyfriend exactly means by this…

"Yeah…" Finn nods, pausing briefly through a heavy swallow before offering her an explanation, "For the army."

Rachel's heart immediately sinks from the length of her body, straight into the very pit of her stomach, leaving her overwhelmed with a cold, whooshing sensation that would have knocked her down had she not been already sitting.

"Oh…" Rachel swallows heavily. Her voice is feeble as the incredulous feelings, her internal struggle begins to pool together filling her head in such a dramatic fashion that she can't even manage to push herself to say anything more than that.

"Yeah, I mean… I thought that I would get a scholarship to college for football but that never happened, and I don't exactly have money for school so…" Finn rambles in his attempts at explaining himself, unable to get the words out of his mouth fast enough as he fears Rachel's growing angry with him when in reality, she is nothing short of plain terrified for the boy, "My dad died serving our country in the military, I just figured that following in his footsteps would be a good way to live up to his honor."

Rachel swallows heavily, Finn's mentioning of his attempts towards living up to the legacy of his father – who had died doing just what Finn is currently attempting – sets uneasily inside of her very core… She can't help but to wonder what Finn's own legacy will carry out to become, and the more thinks of this, the more she begins to think of what her own will be; a vicious cycle that leaves her sucked even deeper inside of this big, black hole than what she already is.

"When would you go?" There are tears behind her voice, and as much as Rachel tries to hide them, Rachel knows that this is impossible… She has to look away. Water swelters inside of her eyes, and as much as she needs people to be strong for _her_ the majority of the time, she knows that right now, it is instead her that has to be strong for Finn…

"Hey…" Finn slows the car; Rachel can feel it jolt as he puts pressure against the brake pads, turning towards her so that she's forced to stare even more determinedly out of the passenger's side window just so that she wouldn't be able to see his face, "Are you okay?"

"When would you go?" Rachel asks him once more, much more firmly this time around as she grows determined to receive a definitive answer.

"I would probably start boot camp by the end of the summer…"

Rachel's heart pounds painfully against her ribcage… The end of the summer was too much, too soon… She didn't even know if she would be finished with chemotherapy by the end of the summer…

"We've had some pretty great times together…" Rachel breathes out her feelings, her eyes transfixed upon the image of her own reflection against the window, never once leaving the repetitive, even pattern of her chest rising and falling with each evenly-spaced breath.

"We have," Finn agrees, and Rachel can practically feel the motion of his head as he nods slowly twice.

"Do you think that we'll miss them? When we go our… our separate ways, I mean?" Rachel implies, hinting at the worst as she speaks before even realizing the depth of what she's said… Finn doesn't miss a beat, he doesn't correct her, instead he only just replies…

"We all will."

The young boy's extended exhale pulls him to a halt just outside of Rachel's front door, allowing for the two to linger awkwardly for several extended moments of silence, each waiting for the other to make the first move as they played uncomfortably with their own fingers, begging themselves able to come up with an appropriate tiding of goodbye.

"Do you think that you can stay with me until my mom gets home?" Rachel's voice is soft as she extends the request, finally deciding that if she can't figure out a means by which to say goodbye, why do it at all, "I mean… I mean I probably shouldn't be alone right after chemo…"

"Yeah," He assures her, resting a large hand downwards on top of her own so that, despite his dramatic difference in size, Rachel can't help but to notice that it fits with an absolute perfection, "I would love to."

Finn silences his car in a dramatic fashion, exaggerating his motions as if to confirm everything that he is saying, climbing from his old, beaten up car to rush around towards the passenger's side door, chivalrously opening Rachel's door and extending her a hand that she gratefully accepts.

She allows him to pull her upwards to her feet, latching her arm about his elbow in an effort to pull herself closer into his body as they slowly make their way up the main path towards the front door.

Rachel struggles with the lock only momentarily; her body, drained of electrolytes from the dehydration effects of chemotherapy trembling slightly as it attempts to compensate for the loss… But the effects are only temporary; eventually, she manages to swing the front door open without so much as letting go of Finn's arm, leading him inside of the empty house, lingering in its taking advantage of such a rare silence.

"Hey, are these your baby pictures?" Finn pulls her towards the mantelpiece directly adjacent to the front door and the assorted array of picture frames, documenting her and Noah's growth from infancy onwards that it adorns.

"Yeah…" Rachel shies away, attempting to tug Finn from the embarrassment permanently captured within the multitude of glass frames, but the boy is resistant, his size overwhelming her own in a manner that allows her to understand that she will never be able to sway him away from his golden ticket that easily.

"Jesus, look at Noah," Finn laughs to himself at a picture of the two siblings – Rachel no more than two, Noah four or five – beaming from within a tandem inner tube as they float inside of their Uncle Ephraim's old, backyard pool, "He'd kill me if he knew that I was looking at these… Aw, look how cute you are."

"I don't even remember being that girl…" Rachel murmurs quietly, her hand extending forwards so that her fingertips just graze across the thin glass frame, outlining a second image of a toddler, course brown hair pulled into fine pigtails as she shines a gap-toothed smile from within her mother's reach, certain beyond any reasonable doubt that she was not only cushioned inside of a safe place, but that she deserved nothing less as well…

"She's beautiful…" Finn assures Rachel, reaching upwards to cover Rachel's outstretched hand within his own so that it is immediately nestled within a cocoon, "So is the girl that she grew up to be."

"How would anybody know?" Rachel asks, "Nobody ever got to meet her."

Finn shifts uncomfortably, he turns from the frozen images of time, eyes pointing downwards upon his real, live girlfriend and away from the portraits of the child that she used to be… His eyes slant inwards,; his goofy grin replaced with a confused uncertainty as he slowly begins to fear for his girlfriend's emotional stability.

"Are you okay?" Finn shrugs away slightly, unsure whether this is what she wants to hear or not, yet unable to come up with anything else that she could possibly say.

"I don't wanna die a virgin…" Rachel blurts her confession so suddenly that it surprises even her. As it is, she is not entirely surprised when Finn's face grows several shades whiter, paling with a force that knocks him back a step or two against his own, uncoordinated feet.

"What?" Finn sputters, the hinges on his jaw loosening so that his mouth practically drops downwards to the floor below.

"I'm dying, Finn!" Rachel regains her ground quickly, gaining momentum as she attempts to back up her argument with the incontrovertible evidence, "And I know that the whole point of all of this is for me to live or whatever, but we all know that when it comes down to things like getting cancer or joining the army, it doesn't always end up the way that you want it to…"

"Rachel…"

"I need to prepare for the worst, Finn." She is blunt in her desperation because she knows that there is no other possible way, "I've been putting together this… I don't know… I guess you can call it a bucket list or whatever, but the point is that I don't want to die a virgin."

"I… I guess that I don't really want to either…" Realization sparks inside of Finn's eyes as he slowly begins to register everything that Rachel is trying to say to him.

"Do you…" Rachel pauses, taking a deep breath as she swallows in her attempts towards sounding smoother as she struggles to find the right words, "Do you want to go upstairs?"

"Yeah," Finn smiles, his bright eyes softening as he clicks his tongue slightly, his mouth growing remarkably dry as he struggles to hide the idea that his long extremities are shaking with both excitement as well as nerves, "I'd like that."

Rachel nods her head briefly, eyes tilting downwards as she breathes heavily and hesitates for but a split second before extending her hand outwards to grab onto Finn's own… She clasps her fingers tightly around his large palm, pulling Finn forwards and towards the stairs, allowing her to finally begin to follow herself for a change…

If only for just this once.

The moment that Rachel falls backwards and against her mattress, Finn's full body weight is already descending down upon her… But the force is not crushing, constricting as she had previously imagined, instead it is gentle, unexpectedly comfortable given the boy's size… The only thing that Rachel can truly think about is that she couldn't remember her bed ever feeling quite so _comfortable_ before in her life…

She had spent too much time terrified of leaving this world unable to know the meaning of true kiss… The second that Rachel feels her nerves, sparking sensual shockwaves across the crevices of her lips as her heart steadily begins to beat harder and harder against her chest, she knows that she has finally found it.

Her eyes slide closed immediately, growing ever increasingly comfortable inside of her own skin… This was _her _place, it was _her_ time. Here, confident and poised, Rachel Corcoran is finally ready to begin committing to all of those things that she so feared missing out on in her brief life.

The Earth begins to pass slowly across her, straight through the open sky. All at once, tomorrow means absolutely nothing.

The two connect in dramatic fashion, everything exactly as she has always pictured it… Rachel finds it so easy to get lost inside of the means by which her and Finn have since become one, distinct person that she doesn't even notice his hands as they knead at her hip bones until he begins to grow daring, and she feels his fingertips brush up against her flat stomach, crawling upwards until he is half way to her flat chest.

The most ironic part is that she is more worried of him reaching out and touching the Hickman catheter jutting against the center of her chest more than anything.

"Finn…" Rachel tenses, her moment of peaceful bliss, of daring spontaneity vanishing as quickly as it has started, erasing in a wave of discomfort that has her writhing like a fish out of the water.

"Hmm…" The boy murmurs into her neck, but his ministrations never stop. Finn is much too carried away, much too absorbed in the task at hand to recognize the idea that his girlfriend is taut and timid directly below him.

"Finn!" Rachel shouts heatedly, shifting suddenly so that he immediately falls away from her, forcing him to shoot her a surprised, upwards glare; his characteristic dopey grin making it look as if he had just been smacked upside the head with a blunt object.

"What?"

"I can't…" She breathes slowly, tears of embarrassment swelling across her eyes as she pulls away, swinging her legs over and about the side of the bed, staring determinedly downwards towards the floor.

Leave it up to her to take a perfectly romantic moment and turn it into something positively awful. "I… I'm sorry."

"Hey…" Finn regains himself rapidly, his hand reaching upwards in order to brush his fingers gently across the space directly above her ear as if to make the instinctual motion to wipe the hair from her face had there actually been any for him to move… His muscles stiffen as he realizes the foolish error in the motion that he has already committed to. His hands retreat naturally, and Rachel has to stop herself from begging him for more contact. "Don't be sorry."

"Something bad is going to happen, Finn." Rachel breathes airily, her subconscious thoughts emitting from beyond the barrier of her mouth in a manner that has Finn jerking suddenly, flying upwards as his eyes immediately scan Rachel for clues.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rachel shrugs, "But that's usually how things like this work. If there's something as good as you in my life then I'm probably gonna have to pay for it somehow."

"That's the stupidest thing that I've ever heard…" He says it, but his words are emitted out of sheer habit; there's a hesitation behind his voice, he knows that there's a sense of truth to it.

"Do you wanna go back downstairs?" Finn fills the empty gap with the suggestion, mentally kicking himself for even playing along with the suggesting that they slink upstairs into the bedroom at all.

"No," Rachel shakes her head immediately, curling upwards back inside of her bed, pressing against Finn, desperate for any sense of human contact as she burrows her body into his broad chest. "I just want to lay here for a little while, okay?"

"Okay…" His muscles are stiff as he slinks his arm about the back of her shoulders, inviting her to move in ever closer… Rachel accepts the offer gratefully, leaning ever further inside of Finn, her eyes closing gently against heavy lids and the thrill of finding the opportunity to simply sleep in with the Gods above them as they continued to perform their diligent work.

"Oh my God…"

Her eyes remain closed but her head is swarming with consciousness as her hazy brain attempts to open itself up against the jolt interfering with her previously enjoyable sleep.

Wait… When had she fallen asleep?

"Oh my God!" The voice grows exponentially louder. It's volume alone is enough to have Rachel's heart pounding, it's familiarity causing the organ to damn near beat straight out of her chest…

Her mother.

There is a rush of movement besides her and suddenly, as if things couldn't possibly get any worse, a profound wind slaps her like a blow to the face… And if she is still, and her mother is standing in the doorway, then there is but one other plausible explanation…

Finn.

The boy is frantic; Rachel can feel his motions beneath the sheets of her bed as he struggles to uproot himself beyond the range of Shelby's eyes, which Rachel could only imagine, are wide in her shock and disbelief… Rachel wouldn't know; she's too busy trying to disappear inside of her pillows to be entirely certain.

How the hell could they have been so stupid? How the hell could the _both_ of them have lost track of the time to the extent that their hours of time available to spend alone together had ended with Shelby walking in on them?

The thud that filters across her ears, accompanied by the rush of cold air associated with her being alone inside of her bed once more, tells Rachel that Finn has pulled himself together long enough to make a bid for his escape while Shelby was still too shocked to murder him.

"I… Bye Rachel, I'll call you!" Finn multitasks, quickly mastering gathering his belongings while simultaneously bidding Rachel farewell at the same time… Rachel risks sneaking a quick glance; Finn's sweatshirt and shoes bunched into a pile that he holds precariously against his outstretched arms, struggling to keep them afloat as he whisks past Shelby – grateful enough to turn her back towards the couple until he was gone.

"Um… bye Mrs. Corcoran…" Finn knows not to linger, shouting a polite goodbye simply for the sake of having something to say… But amidst his speech, Finn does not pause in his motions once; he isn't that stupid…

If they thought that Noah was going to rip him apart for hooking up with his sister, Shelby's wrath was about a million times worse.

Rachel finds herself growing almost grateful that Shelby hadn't given Finn an earful upon his exit until she remembers that she is probably on the cusp of receiving enough of a lecture for the both of them.

The distant slamming of the front door tells Rachel that Finn has escaped safely… Rachel is knowingly silent, watching Shelby carefully as she continues to turn her back towards her daughter… Her mother is breathing so deeply in and out in an effort to attempt to calm herself that Rachel can see the exaggerated motions of her upper back even from all the way across the room.

"I… what… _how_…" Shelby is struggling to get her words out… When she finally does turn around, there is a fire in her eyes that makes Rachel cringe. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Can we not do this?" Rachel begs quietly, but the girl knows that her breath is wasted; there is no way in hell that her mother is going to let this one slide.

"Can we not do this!" The disbelief behind Shelby's voice is annunciated by a sheath of angry tears. It confirms everything that Rachel is already thinking; she is not going to be getting off the hook that easily, and this time, the _It's my birthday_, not even the classic _I'm dying_ excuse is going to work. "Rachel, at the risk of sounding like a broken record asking you this lately, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I guess that I wasn't thinking much of anything…" Rachel fidgets nervously with her fingers… Her situation, it seems, is only getting worse… But she is fueling it; Rachel knows that she is fueling it with each and every hurricane and tornado and tidal wave that she brings down upon this house.

"Well that much is obvious." Shelby shoots back harshly towards her daughter, "Why do you keep doing this, Rachel? You're throwing yourself into all of these detrimental situations that are compromising your health… I'm starting to get the feeling that while I'm running around like a chicken with my damn head cut off, you don't seem to care at all about getting yourself better again!"

"Of course I care about getting better!" Rachel sits straighter upwards, standing defiantly inside of her bed, "You asked me what I was thinking; do you want the truth mom, because all I've been thinking about lately is how I'm going to die a freaking virgin! That's what I was thinking."

The color drains from Shelby's face so fast that Rachel blinks and her skin grows from its natural olive, to white as a ghost.

"You didn't…" Shelby's jaw drops open, mouths dangling as her eyes practically beg Rachel to confirm that she hadn't been quite that stupid.

"Of course I didn't," Rachel sighs in her exasperation towards the idea that her mother actually thought her to be so stupid, "But maybe I wanted to."

Shelby freezes, stuttering stupidly as she chokes on her own struggle to organize her thoughts, the idea that she had just caught her sixteen year old daughter in bed with another boy versus the idea that Rachel is clearly under the impression that she is closing in on death itself.

"What makes you think that you're going to die, Rachel?" Shelby props herself against the doorway, crossing her arms in her attempt towards looking strong… But her voice trembles. Rachel is certain that she would have been able to catch the motion from a mile away.

"Open your eyes mom; you can sugarcoat it any way you want but this is the truth; I'm dying!" She grows defiant, angry at her situation, angry at her mother for even bringing it up, angry at herself for getting caught, angry at absolutely everything…

"You're not…"

"I am!" Rachel cuts Shelby off; she can hear her mother's voice echoing throughout the hallway, bouncing off of the walls and straight back inside of her own ears… Shelby retreats as if she had just been burned.

"You know that there's a reason that you're going through all of this right now, Rachel…" Shelby cocks her eyebrow towards her daughter as if either of them would ever forget the reason that Rachel was stuck inside of this predicament to begin with, "It's to get you better again."

"I know that mom." Rachel makes the point clear, hoping to drill it deep inside of Shelby's head that she is well aware the exact reason why it was that she is putting herself through this hell every day. "But you know as well as I do that things don't always work out the way that we want them to."

Things get painfully quiet much too quickly.

"Finn is joining the army." Rachel offers her explanation for her distance, figuring that the very least Shelby deserved this much from her.

"I'm sorry…" Shelby's response is automatic, natural… It mirrors the awkward apologies that Rachel knows her mother fields on a daily basis every time somebody inquires to the woman about her… Rachel is well aware of just how empty this apology is, but still, Shelby finds it inside of herself to risk taking several steps forward into Rachel's room, seating herself at the far corner of her daughter's bed as Rachel sits upward… "I'm sorry that the both of you have to go through something like this while you're both still so young, but Rachel, that's still no excuse to go ahead and jump into doing this sort of a thing with Finn… You two have barely been dating a month; there's no pressure, there isn't any rush."

"But there is a rush, mom," Rachel emphasizes the exact point that she has been trying to make all along, understanding that Shelby did not seem to be getting any of it. "We're not made of time, mom."

"Do you know how I know that you're not ready for things like that?" Shelby's mouth upturns slightly as she questions her daughter, but her eyes are impossibly sad alongside the understanding that this is not meant to be taken lightly.

"How?"

"Because you just said that…" Shelby sighs dramatically, her head shaking back and forth slowly like a metronome, "Besides that Rachel, you know that the normal risks don't apply to you, that they're multiplied by about a thousand because of your situation… The risk of infection, of bleeding… do you have any idea what would happen to you right now if you God forbid contracted an STD or… or…"

"Mom, please…" Rachel takes advantage of her mother's inability to find the right words, begging the woman for silence… She has already been forced to sit through one traumatic sex talk; she didn't think that she could handle another one.

"If you're old enough to think about having sex, Rachel, then you're old enough to hear this…" Rachel's face glows bright red as Shelby makes her stance on the conversation known, "You need to be safe; you need to be protected."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore…" Rachel mutters into her hands as she buries her face deep inside of her palms, looking to positively disappear inside of them.

"Rachel…"

"Please mom!" Rachel buts off her mother's warning tone alongside a desperate plea, so pitiful that not even Shelby can ignore it any longer, "I just don't feel well right now and I don't want to talk about this anymore, alright?"

"Fine," Shelby shakes her head through a dramatic sigh; clearly, she is disappointed, but she chooses to concede anyway, pushing herself up from Rachel's bed and into a standing position; a miraculous motion; or so Rachel thinks. "I think that we both need some time to cool off anyway… But you're not off the hook, Rachel; we will be talking about his more in the morning." Shelby's finger is pointed directly into Rachel's face. She is determined not to allow Rachel off the hook with this one; not now, not ever.

"Fine,"

"Fine."

Shelby nods her head, solidifying their agreeing to disagree with one single, final motion, and as much as she hates to say it, Rachel finds herself glad to be seeing the back her mother as the woman removes herself from Rachel's room and closes the door behind her, shutting the lights out on what could have easily been one of the worst birthdays ever on record.

When Rachel wakes up the next morning, nestled safely inside of her own bed, the first thing that she realizes is that she can't breathe.

The pain is unbearable, overwhelming as it pinches at her lungs to the point that it restricts her air flow before it so much as has the opportunity to enter… She had thought that she had woken up in pain yesterday; that was nothing compared to this.

Oxygen, it seems, dissipates into thin air before it can so much as linger upon her lips… Rachel is prominently aware of the idea that she wouldn't be able to call for help right now even if she wanted to… Tiny moans of pain escape from in between Rachel's clenched teeth but beyond that, there is nothing.

She could die right now and it would be hours before anybody so much as noticed.

Squeezing her eyes closed tightly, Rachel attempts to concentrate solely on her ability to regain control of her breathing patterns; shaky breaths in through her nose that are pushed right back out of her mouth…

Her actions take quick effect; the pain concentrates, it lingers from a systematic agony into a pinpointed throbbing deep within her lower back… It is rapidly growing worse and worse, and this time there were no means by which she could possibly avoid it.

Rachel has to force herself out of her bed, moving in slow, staccato motions as she wills her body to move beyond the agony, conditioning it with the promise of relief just as soon as she can reach her mother… The girl stumbles almost immediately, falling to her knees alongside a sharp bolt, like lightning up her spine…

Tears sting harshly at her eyes, but through her mouth comes nothing more than a low, disapproving groan.

She has to get back up again; there is no other option… Rachel cannot drag herself on her hands and knees throughout this house; she refuses to go out by such a pathetic means… If this truly was _it_, then Rachel Corcoran was going to do it under her conditions and her conditions only.

She stumbles with a dramatic impressiveness towards the staircase… Rachel is certain that she must almost look drunk right about now; the reminder that her mother is not particularly pleased with her at the moment rings in her fears that this just might well be Shelby's first thought.

Rachel would like to think that her mother wouldn't think her capable of anything _that_ stupid, but in these past couple of weeks, even Rachel is beginning to question herself.

She founds the faint sounds of shuffling straight into the kitchen, knowing full well that this is where she is most likely to come face to face with Shelby… Rachel locates her mother easily, seated at the dining room table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, clutching the front page of the local newspaper with the other.

Shelby looks peaceful in the daily half second that she is allotted an escape from the truth… Rachel looks at her mother and for the briefest of moments, she sees the woman that she used to be before the hospital visits and the funeral processions and the late night calls from the Lima Police Department had hardened her.

Rachel watches as Shelby laughs gently towards the words of some obscure article and can tell immediately, that it is a motion that comes naturally… It is not the kind that Rachel has to search for, like she has been forced to do so often these days.

"Did you sleep late, or have you just been trying to avoid me all morning?"

Shelby doesn't look up from her newspaper, but she immediately registers Rachel's presence… A good mother knows, a good mother _always_ knows.

Rachel doesn't want to respond, she doesn't want to do anything other than to give Shelby this moment, to reach out and touch her, if only to physically prove that the woman that Rachel had once known was still inside of there somewhere… But she can't.

When Rachel doesn't respond to Shelby's inquiry immediately, the older woman's chin tilts upwards to investigate; the briefest of calms washes across her face until finally she truly _sees_ her daughter for the first time, trembling with fever, sweat glistening across her gray-tinted forehead in a manner that has Shelby tensing naturally…

Shelby had to have known that sooner or later, her bid for relaxation would have ended with a force strong enough to put her on her very knees.

"Oh my God…" Shelby bursts from her seat, darting upwards in a manner that has even Rachel's head spinning. She rushes towards her daughter's side, but even then, she can't seem to get there fast enough.

"Mom…" Rachel finally chokes; her voice is shaking, her fear obvious.

"Rachel, what is it? What's wrong? What hurts?" Shelby is frantic, she asks a million questions at once as she squats before Rachel, meeting the girl's eyes directly as she grasps onto her shoulders, shaking at them gently in an instinctive effort to get the answers out of her faster.

Rachel forces her eyes closed against the intrusion; she opens her mouth but no words ever come out, instead, her gag reflex triggers, leaving her heaving dryly for several brief seconds until a fresh stream of blood trickles from the corners of her mouth, filling her sinuses with an overwhelming irony clang that she fears will be with her for the rest of time.

"You have to talk to me baby, please, where does it hurt?" Shelby presses the sleeve of her sweatshirt against the corners of Rachel's mouth in an effort to teem the flow… Of course, her efforts are worthless.

There is blood, there is more blood than Rachel has seen in her entire life, and the more that Shelby staunches the flow for her, the more Rachel wonders how much more she can stand to lose…

"I'm sorry…" Rachel murmurs through another wave of blood; she's growing increasingly disoriented, every time she speaks, her tongue brushes against the slimy layer of blood forming a distinct biofilm against her otherwise white teeth.

"Honey, don't be sorry, please… just tell me what's wrong!" She attempts to contain her panic but it protrudes dramatically from her throat… Rachel can hear her mother's heartbeat, the vibrations reverberating down her spine so that Rachel can practically hear the older woman's thoughts with each progressive thump.

Is this it?

Is this it?

Is this it?

"It started yesterday…" Rachel licks her lips, she tastes nothing but blood; her mother's fingernails dig so deeply into her arms that it breaks the skin; she forces herself to concentrate on the miniscule pain that it causes, tries to convince herself that it distracts from the rest of it… "It's in my lower back right near my… my…"

"Kidneys," Shelby breathes, finishing the sentence for her daughter, trying to mask the panic that lingers behind her voice.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner…" Shelby can only shake her head; she's out of things to say as she reaches outwards and touches Rachel's forehead, her palm lying flat for but a handful of brief seconds before she retracts abruptly as if burned.

"Don't be sorry… Please baby, don't be sorry, you just… you just need to hang on for a little while," Shelby is running in circles, her eyes wide with panic as she begins to rip apart the kitchen, "God damn it where are my car keys!" She screams at the inanimate object that has supposedly picked the worst possible time to go missing, and that's when Rachel knows that her mother is truly on edge…

It takes a lot to get Shelby Corcoran to yell.

"Mom…" Spots filter between her eyes, that tightness in her chest returning so that she can practically feel the color draining from her face as her mother's frantic motions about the kitchen leave her head spinning.

"Hang on Rachel; I just have to find my keys…" Shelby doesn't look up from her frantic search; instead, she tears the kitchen apart in search for the coveted device… Rachel's vision clears just in time to notice that she's barefoot and still wearing old sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt… Rachel doubts very much that this will change. "I just gotta… we'll be at the hospital soon and… Jesus Christ, where are they!"

"Mom…" Her voice is barely above a whisper as she begs for her mother's full attention. The loudest that she can go is in fact, not very loud at all, but the desperation seems to be enough to attract Shelby's attention… The mother looks up just in time to watch her daughter fall ungracefully into an awaiting chair below her; desperate to get off of her feet before she fell off of them.

"Rachel! Rachel, look at me," Rachel's chest is heaving, every breath emits as a strangled gasp that never actually lets any air in. She can feel her mother's hand clutch desperately at the side's of her face, trying to force her to look her in the eye as if this will have any effect whatsoever on her level of consciousness, "Stay with me Rachel, come on!"

Her vision explodes into a haze of color before her until she can't so much as see her mother's face in front of her own anymore… The woman's voice is rapidly fading into a dull undertone that has Rachel thinking almost humorously, of all of the movies when they put the character's voices into slow motion…

The pain radiating up her spine is gone, replaced by a warm, soothing sensation that almost has her begging to follow; her vision goes entirely gray, never actually falling to complete blackness as a voice whispers incessantly inside of her mind; advice delivered to little too late, reminding her to take advantage of the concept of breathing while she still had the opportunity to do so.

**Amandaes417**** – Thanks! Glad you enjoyed, because I love writing Rachel's POV. **

**Princess-N-xoxo**** – Thank you!**

**Clara_Meliza**** – Haha, for some reason I really do enjoy writing dark, jerky Puck. Thanks for the review! Sorry the site screwed you up the last time :/**

**Anon**** – Noah's got some tough times ahead (and Rachel too for that matter) they needed to work things out so they can lean on each other a bit more down the line… I'm glad you enjoy momma bear Shelby because I really love writing her and giving her character at least a little something after the actual writers screwed that story up entirely. She's gonna have a lot on her plate between Rachel and Noah but they'll find a way. Santana's stay with the Corcoran's won't last much longer, really, her moving in was a means to get Rachel and Noah talking again and in the long run, her moving out is going to be more profound… Finn is starting to get a bit spooked so things will take a sour turn. If it makes sense, I enjoy the concept of Rachel and Finn together more than I actually enjoy Finn himself… I enjoyed them in season one and for the majority of the time, I just like to pretend that seasons 2 and 3 never happened so that is where all of that comes from. Noah's going to be a bit of a loner for a while, but he'll find a way out of it, he always does. Thanks for the review! **

**Solemnxhypnotic**** – Eek, thank you! Santana wasn't serious, that's just her sense of humor messing around with Rachel. In her eyes, it should be taken as a compliment :) I'm not sure that Regionals is going to be a possibility for Rachel, but I decided to throw that little part in because I get the impression watching the show that most of them aren't the brightest crayons in the box and have a tendency to do things with the best of intentions that end up completely backfiring. Plus I figured I should probably add a bit of the other guys in there for a cameo haha. Your words are incredible, thank you so much for them! **


	34. Noah Corcoran December 2011 Part I

**I surprisingly enough do not have a lot to say today! Only that I might be pushing personal record times for pushing out chapters recently, and that the next one should be up in the next couple of days, but it is a bit shorter than what I'm sure you're used to reading from me (about half of what it usually is, about 5,000 words or so)  
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**Anyways, that's it, I hope you enjoy and thank you, thank you, thank you all for the fantastic feedback that I have been receiving!  
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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – December 2011  
><em>(Part I)<em>

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><p>These days it has been exceptionally hard for Noah to disconnect when the God's honest truth of it all is that the only thing that he truly wants is a reminder that there is a sense of reality still surrounding any of them at all.<p>

He arrives at William McKinley's weight room approximately eight hours early for the Titans' daily lifting session… Who needed homeroom anyway, right?

Always the overachiever in terms of his athletic endeavors, the truth is that this time, he just needs something to take his mind off of things; his failed college dreams, his sister's plight against cancer, and most prominently these days, his lingering nerves regarding this weekend's state championship football game.

"Hey Corcoran!" Sweat drips heavily from his forehead as he exhales through one last bench press before depositing the heavy bar back down against its holster… The boy sits up against the flat bench in response to his name, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm before he pauses, his eyes focusing upon the image of his coach standing directly before him, a look of concern adorning his face, hands plastered steadily against his hips. "You have a phone call in my office."

"What is it another recruiter telling me to forget about playing football in college because I got arrested for pummeling my teammate?" Noah's lips turn upwards in a dark, playful gesture although his words are far from funny. "No thanks, Coach, I have a workout to finish."

"It isn't a recruiter…" The second that Coach Tanaka does not reciprocate Noah's actions, the younger boy's expression falls into a frown once more… "It's your mother."

Noah pauses only briefly to eye his coach with curiosity… Questions are laced deep inside of the very pit of his eyes; questions that Noah knows Ken Tanaka could never possibly answer for him… The catch was that Noah's heart has been conditionally trained these past couple of months to positively stop every time the phone rang. He is terrified of news that things were not getting any better but instead only worse… Rachel has always been adamant in her belief that the light at the end of the tunnel was never really as far away as everybody thought it was… Noah is having a more difficult time than usual believing that these days.

Noah Corcoran is a naturally fast boy; he hadn't achieved a nationally ranked football title for nothing… Even still, he is certain that he has never run faster in his entire life…

He darts expertly through the gym and into Ken Tanaka's office, his feet taking him on their own accord straight towards the phone, resting off of its cradle against the wooden panel of the coach's desk.

"Mom?" He hasn't so much as fully lifted the receiver against his ear and Noah is already yelling, demanding answers from the woman on the other line.

"Noah…" Shelby breathes heavily; Noah can tell that she has been holding her breath… Her voice shakes; she has been crying. "Noah, I tried calling your cell phone but you didn't answer… I didn't know what else to do, I called here first, I… I…"

"No mom, its fine I was at the gym is all… What happened? What's wrong?" Noah rushes through Shelby's apologies, cutting her off in his being more concerned with the answers that she has to give to him rather than the explanations.

"It's your sister." Shelby informs him, and although deep down, Noah has already deduced this much, his heart still flutters the second that he hears the confirmation.

"What happened?"

"She woke up this morning with a high fever, complaining about lower back pains… She collapsed and we took her into the ER but…" Shelby pauses; she forces herself to carry onwards via a deeply expelled breath. "They think that it's a kidney infection Noah, extenuated problems, they said from… from before… Remember, back in September?"

"_We're just worried about you, Rach… We're worried about you and your liver." _Noah remembers vividly, his previous conversation with Rachel, months ago in the making, suddenly feeling like a lifetime ago. _"My kidneys Noah, which are fine, really, there's nothing to worry about, I promise."_

"I'll be right there." Noah hangs up the telephone before Shelby can so much as manage a response, not even bothering to nestle the phone back into its cradle before he takes off like lightning, barreling forwards and straight towards the parking lot.

He is tripping over his own two feet with every step forward that he takes… Noah was just starting to get used to the idea of existing inside a lifestyle that dictated concentrating solely on putting one foot in front of the other when a phone call from his mother shattered even that simplest of concepts… He can only wish that somebody could honestly tell him that everything was en route towards getting better for once in his life.

When Noah finally does arrive inside of his car he refuses to look behind him once for fear of the understanding that this is a road that is already clear and laid out directly before him… Everything that he should be expecting is in front of him, with absolutely nothing left behind.

As he drives, Noah prays for nothing more than a retention of a sense of normalcy, but it takes him less than a mile to remember that to him, that to _them_, normal was nothing more than an expression of pure relativity.

The truth is that none of them had ever had the opportunity to truly be _normal_…

Well… they had had their moment for a little while anyway, in the six years that Noah had been alive before Rachel had gotten sick, but he'd barely remembered those years, he is certain that Rachel didn't either and ever since then, they had all been too busy waiting for something bad to happen to even consider the good, let alone to relish inside of it.

When he does arrive outside of Rachel's room, the first thing that Noah notices is his mother.

She is hovering directly over Rachel's bedside. Her body is perfectly still save for the consistent motions of her hands, as she holds a wet washcloth diligently across Rachel's sweat-beaded forehead.

The harder that Noah looks at Shelby, the easier it is for him to see the evidence that his mother could have been beautiful, if only she had existed inside of someone else's life; a life that did not revolve around keeping her daughter alive and her son out of trouble…

There is a shadow of that Broadway glamour still lingering across her features… Every once in a while, her eyes catch the overhead lighting in a manner just perfect enough that Noah can catch the youthful glow still ensnared somewhere inside of them.

Shelby doesn't notice her son lingering against the large observation window right away… He is almost certain that he could stand in this exact spot for a week and still, Shelby wouldn't even realize that he was even there… He tries desperately not to take offence; it isn't as though Shelby didn't _care_ about him, Noah is at least aware of this much, it's just that she didn't really have the time to care about anybody other than Rachel.

Noah was a problem that just so happened to rank lower amidst the grand scheme of things.

He has never mentioned it before, and as much as he pretends to consider it, he knows that he never well… They are all perfectly aware of just how unfair life could sometimes be, but Shelby is a woman of no excuses which meant that Noah would have no say but to do so as well.

He hesitates before inching forwards, moving at a snail's pace as he finds himself looking continuously over his shoulder, trying to figure out which scenario was better; walking into the narrow noose before him, or the treacherous waters behind… Either way, the situation didn't seem to favor his outcome, and no matter how many times he has heard that eventually, it gets better, Noah has learned not to hold his breath waiting.

From her position inside of the bed, Noah can already tell that the hospital staff has Rachel being pumped full of anything that can possibly replace everything that she has lost; biohazard, clear plastic bags that Noah can easily distinguish between; granulocytes, plasma, platelets, _everything_…

A rainbow of fluids dangle above her bed, swaying gently with the soft fan of the humidifier so that it vaguely resembles the gold star mobile that Noah remembers used to hang above Rachel's crib when she was a baby, before Rachel began to use the device as a means to assist her escape on the day that she'd learned how to crawl from her crib on her own accord.

Each falls individually, but collaborates inside of her veins. The potent liquids work together in harmony, they prevent Rachel from dehydrating, they prevent the potential infection lingering inside of her body from irreversibly spreading, they resist her body from entering into a state of shock that Noah knows just as much as the doctors do, will be impossible to reverse.

Oxygen floods into her system through tubes shoved unceremoniously inside of each of her nostrils, tubes that Rachel always used to say felt like stray, and only ever made things worse… The manner by which his sister squirms inside of her bed – even in sleep – every once in a while, tells Noah that whatever it is that the doctors do have Rachel on, it isn't nearly enough.

Noah wonders what all of the CT scans what all of the MRI's and the X-Rays and the blood tests that they have inevitably taken from Rachel have shown… He wonders how bad it is, how far that it has spread…

Mostly, Noah just wonders whether or not his mother knows that no matter how still she sits at her daughter's bedside, there's still no rewards for loyalty; not in a place like this.

Noah is certain to stop himself while he still can… He can't think about what will happen _if_ Rachel dies. He can't bring himself to look that far inside of his heart, into a life that does not have Rachel inside of it, because Noah is more than certain that if he does, he is not going to like anything that he sees.

Rachel is in reverse isolation now, the idea being that a single germ could be one bacterium enough to kill her.

His sister doesn't have an immune system. It sounds crazy, Noah knows this, but it's the truth… In lament terms, this means that the chance of Rachel catching some sort of crazy infection is not a concern, but a downright given…

The surprise, it always seemed, will come with how severe said infection is, and whether or not Rachel will be able to fight it off.

The tall, muscular teen fights his way into a miniature isolation suit and a pair of thick, blue gloves that the shelves outside ever only have in sized small; countering his enormous palms in a terribly constricting manner.

He has to walk through two doors to actually get inside of Rachel's hospital room… The anteroom, as it is officially named, Noah remembers the last time he had been inside of this chamber, when he had been six years old pretending that he was inside of a spaceship… a small room that genuinely separated him from the rest of the universe.

Shelby's purse lays abandoned against the floor of the small, sealed gap between the hallway and Rachel's unit… She must have deemed it too much of a hassle to have had to seal it inside of Ziplock bag before being granted entrance inside of Rachel's room… Noah considers the logic only briefly before agreeing, dropping his wallet and cell phone directly besides his mother's belongings.

Noah is expertly silent as he enters into the cold, darkened room… His mother doesn't even notice. Instead, she bares the entirety of her concentration down upon her daughter… Every handful of seconds, she directs words of encouragement towards the unconscious girl, muttering to Rachel that she can be strong, that she can get through this when in reality, Noah is left with the impression that she is talking to herself more than she is Rachel.

"Mom?"

He makes his presence known with a high pitched, hesitant wail… His own voice makes him feel like a boy again as he watches his mother's eyes tilt upwards; sad, tired, desperate…

Noah had grown up pretending that Shelby could fix the things that he knew he couldn't, but even that grandiose idea would have to extinguish eventually… or so Noah assumed.

"Oh Noah, thank God…" Shelby stands to her feet, she moves with shaky motions, a handful of steps forward before she's granted the range to clutch onto her son…

The interaction is understandably brief however, Shelby has another child that needs her much more than he does right now.

"What happened?" Noah forces the question from his mouth still not entirely certain that he wants to know the details… Her motions are both robotic and uniform; Noah knows that to try any other way will probably just send his mother straight into the sanitarium.

"She slept in late today… Rachel and I we… we got into an argument yesterday, I thought that she was just hiding away inside of her bedroom trying to avoid me." A hint of regret shines across his mother's eyes. He is curious as to what the details of said argument are, but at the same time, Noah isn't willing to risk making Shelby even more vulnerable than what she already is, "When she finally came downstairs I knew that there was something wrong, she just looked so… so sick… I can't stop thinking about whether or not things would have been this bad if I just went upstairs to check on her…"

Tears well inside of Shelby's eyes; Noah wonders how many she had already shed before he had even arrived here – "It's not your fault, mom."

She didn't get too much information out before she collapsed only that she had this… this pain in her lower back." Shelby's head shakes slowly back and forth against her son's insistencies towards information, wiping her fingers at the stray tears beneath her eyes, "When the ambulance came, they clocked her fever in at 104, her systolic blood pressure had already dropped into the low 90's and she's been tachycardic ever since…"

"What does that mean?" Noah raises an eyebrow; a usual expert in nonsensical medical jargon, he is out of practice, completely in the dark and he does not like it one bit… The manner by which Shelby pauses before she answers tells Noah that he will not like the answer any more… Not even he could have been prepared for the truth this time around.

"Organ failure,"

His eyes widen instantly, his mouth opening to release a response although none comes out save for the smallest squeal of surprise… The manner by which his heart has begun radiating against his ribcage has Noah thinking that if he doesn't control himself soon, he will be in the bed directly besides Rachel in only a matter of seconds.

Shelby allows him his moment, understanding fully, the pain pounding directly through his chest as he practices several seconds of slow, deep breathing exercises…

"Try and relax, Noah." Through closed eyes, he can feel her familiar touch against his broad shoulders, her fingers kneading gently at the muscles in a synchronized effort to calm him. "The doctors are hoping that maybe, because she was having some difficulties with her kidneys before all of this, that it might just be a kidney infection from the chemotherapy that hopefully they can control with antibiotics… The worst case scenario will be that she'll need surgery."

"I don't like the sound of surgery, mom…" Noah's eyes dart upwards to meet his mother's, eyeing her seriously as if he had any say in the manner of making Rachel's informed medical decisions anyway… "Look at her. She's in enough pain as it is."

"I know Noah, trust me I don't very much like the sound of surgery either," Shelby responds, and just like that, there they are again; those damn tears, filtering relentlessly across his mother's eyes like the broad swell of a rogue wave… Noah forces himself to look away. He can't stand to see her like this. He can't stand to see any of them like this. "But you know what? I don't like the idea of putting my kid in the ground even more, so we're going to have to do what we have to do." Noah's eyes widen immediately. Even Shelby, it seems, is surprised by her own bluntness. "I'm sorry, that wasn't necessary."

"It's okay." Noah shakes his head against his mother's apology. The truth was that he is more afraid for her teetering emotional stability than he was surprised towards her harsh statement, but the last thing that Shelby needs right now is an inquiry directed towards her current mental state.

"No it isn't." She ignores how quickly her son had thrown away her apology… Noah is just debating about whether or not it was his place to ask her about her feelings for a change when she turns away from him, leaving Noah to bask in the center of the open room as his mother returns to her diligent post besides his sleeping sister.

"We're still waiting for the results of the blood work. Dr. McCarthy already said that they most likely won't be able to get her into an MRI until tomorrow they're already so overbooked… The ultrasound didn't show any sort of extreme deformities so they aren't too concerned about getting a better look at the moment…" Shelby doesn't stop talking. Noah knows that if she allows herself to idle inside of this silence for too long, her mind will positively explode around itself… Noah gets it. He understands, truly he does; he only wishes that his mother would take herself into consideration for a change… just this once.

"M-mom?"

Noah barely makes out the fuzzy, practically incoherent call coming from the corner of the room… Rachel is the only plausible explanation for its source; she sounds drowsy, drugged… Noah is briefly reminded of a time not too long ago now – although it seems like a lifetime at this point – that Rachel had snuck into the football party that he had hosted, subsequently getting herself annihilated.

Rachel had told him that night that something bad was going to happen, and at that point, he hadn't believed her… Now, Noah knows to always believe when his sister is telling him something; _always_… He has the briefest of humorous thoughts of intoxicating substances magically acting as a means of Rachel hacking into her sixth sense, but the dopey smile towards the idea vanishes immediately alongside the acknowledgment that in this case, he didn't want to hear what Rachel had to say about the future.

"I'm right here honey…" Shelby doesn't so much as skip a beat. She is standing erect besides her daughter before the words are so much as finished emitting from beyond Rachel's mouth.

"Mom… where are you?" Her words slur dramatically, the copious amounts of painkillers flooding through her system evident behind her voice… Noah doesn't believe that even he has ever been as messed up as his sister is right now.

"I'm standing right next to you, Rachel." Shelby informs her daughter with a gentle smile, reaching a hand out to rub gently across the top of Rachel's bald head, "Do you feel me? I'm right here."

"I can't see you." Rachel lifts her arms, attempts to grope for her mother in her efforts to locate her, but she can barely so much as move her hands an inch upwards.

"That's because you're eyes are closed, sweetie." Shelby speaks through a small laugh that she tries to suppress for Rachel's sake. The motion lingers against her lips and Noah relishes inside of it, embraces it… This is the most that he has seen his mother smile in weeks.

"Jesus, what kind of drugs do they have her on?" Noah interjects amidst the conversation between the coherent and the inebriated.

"Your sister is currently relishing in a very healthy dose of morphine." Shelby informs her son, but her eyes never truly leave her daughter, "Come on Rachel, open your eyes…"

Tiny, staccato moans of pain escape from beyond Rachel's slightly parted lips as she fights towards a consciousness that has brought her so much pain… Noah can only wonder why it is that she still bothers. If it were him, he didn't think that he would ever leave that security.

"Welcome back, honey…" Shelby greets her daughter back inside of the realm of consciousness as Rachel blinks and squints against the intrusive daylight, struggling to find her words for what Noah is certain may be the first time in her entire life.

"Water?" The girl finally manages to croak, all of her efforts going immediately to waste as Shelby glances towards her apologetically, shaking her head gently to affirm that her request is one that cannot be met.

"I'm sorry Rachel, you're not allowed to eat or drink anything right now… They think that whatever is happening to you might have something to do with your kidneys so the doctors have to control everything that goes into your system for the next couple of days." Shelby breaks the news gently, but the girl appears disinterested by logistics, her grimace telling both Shelby and Noah that her kidneys could explode from her body for all she cared, as long as she had a means by which to ensure that her mouth no longer felt as if a fuzzy animal were burrowing inside of it.

"I don't care…" Rachel murmurs gently, and through the corner of his eye, Noah catches her seemingly compulsive movements as he scratches repeatedly at her arm until the skin breaks, seemingly marveled by the idea that with all of the drugs that she's on, she can't even feel it.

"I know you don't, honey…" Shelby speaks as if she is addressing a child, grabbing at Rachel's continuously scratching hand and squeezing it in an effort to prevent her from doing anymore damage to her fragile body than she already has, "It will get better soon, I promise."

"I'm sorry…" Rachel breathes amidst her tangent of speech, and the second that Shelby's eyes turn to match Noah's, the hint of a smile written against them, Noah finds himself able to mimic the silent laughter, poking fun at his sister for being so incapacitated that she probably wouldn't even be able to find her own feet had she been asked.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Rachel." Shelby speaks airily but her words are vague, she isn't concentrating on them nearly as much as she is concentrating on her attempts to identify a physical sign that Rachel is in any pain although in reality, they both know that right now, Rachel probably can't feel much of anything at all.

"About yesterday," Noah watches as his mother tenses, her motions freezing as Rachel pauses to suck in a handful of deep breaths, trying desperately to gather enough oxygen inside of her lungs to emit everything that she has to say… Noah eyes the pair curiously; he hadn't known about anything out of the ordinary happening yesterday… Nothing that Rachel should be apologizing for anyway. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to almost sleep with Finn. I didn't really want to, I promise…"

"The blood drains immediately from inside of Noah's face. He can feel his heart beating inside of his ears as he watches his mother's head fall in apparent defeat towards the idea that she'd been unsuccessful in her attempts to prevent Rachel from spilling her secret, entirely unaware of her brother's presence.

Rachel turns inwards towards her son. Noah wants to turn away, but he is still too frozen in his shock, watching as Shelby mouths a simple _I'm sorry_ that means absolutely nothing to Noah.

He can't seem to process anything beyond Rachel's revelation that she had almost slept with Finn… How close had they gotten? A kiss, a touch, something more… He shudders with anger just thinking about it.

"Don't worry about that right now, Rachel…" Shelby pleads desperately for her daughter's silence, although she would never say this directly… As if it even mattered; what was said has already been said. "What happened happened. You just need to concentrate on getting yourself better right now."

Noah's face grows immediately flushed; he is suddenly embarrassed, painstakingly uncomfortable… In front of his eyes, a storm of color and force dances so that all he can do is back himself inside of a corner and pray that he may still be able to come out of this one alive…

He finds his feet inching immediately towards the door, retreating with the justifying acknowledgment that anybody who has been backed against a corner would do anything that they possibly could to fight their way back into the open once more… Sure, it wasn't a lifestyle that he would particularly recommend living as consistently as himself, but you have to stay alive somehow, and while nobody plans on being removed from the safety of family, sometimes in reality, it just isn't the most comfortable of places to be.

There is much more to life than simply just living; Noah can tell you that easily… The second that he realizes that the idea of giving up may not actually be quite as bad as it seems, Noah concedes that in order to find yourself, first you must lose all concept of control entirely.

He gathers his belongings quickly, before Shelby could be granted an opportunity to stop him, and steps outside into the hallway alongside the acknowledgment that sometimes it is difficult to distinguish between what is real when you are so very far from the concept yourself.

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><p>He goes straight from the hospital back to his high school.<p>

Even Noah is surprised by his actions, but he can't allow his anger to get in the way, he can't risk his attendance record jeopardizing his ability to play in States, not because of Finn fucking Hudson of all people…

He quickly makes the informed decision to drive with his car windows rolled all the way down despite the idea that it is freezing outside. If he is going to deal with this head on, he is going to have to be ready.

Going through with the motions, Noah quickly decides that he is finishing throwing tantrums. He needs to learn to deal with things sooner rather than later and now seemed like as good a time as any to start.

He spends his day more or less worthless inside of the classroom; more so than usual anyway, which is saying a lot… His attention span in relation to class work is at an all time zero; Noah has always struggled to pay attention enough as it was, but with the grueling idea of his sister and Finn constantly lingering against his mind, there isn't much else that he can do other than to sit in the back of each class and linger in his silence.

It is a shame, really; a shame that Noah immediately pinpoints on Finn, simply because he needs somebody to blame at the moment and Finn is the perfect candidate… With his schoolwork having picked up in the past couple of months, his retreat back into old habits hurts even him.

A once solid D student, his grade point average has skyrocketed in these past weeks… He was even getting an A in Mr. Schuester's Spanish class; a feat previously deemed downright impossible.

When the lunch bell finally rings, the only thing that Noah can think of is that it couldn't have come soon enough… Of course, lunch for him has not exactly been a _free_ period as of late, not with his still school required daily visits to Emma Pillsbury anyway…

He doesn't know why he even bothers with her anymore. He could talk to Ms. Pillsbury until he was blue in the face, it wouldn't change the fact that there was nothing in the entirety of her small, pristine office that could bring his family back together, that could make them all whole once more.

Finally doing well in school wasn't going to bring back his scholarships. Talking about his feelings wasn't going to resurrect his father or make Rachel healthier… So at the end of the day, what was the point?

"I heard about your sister Noah, I am very sorry."

When Ms. Pillsbury opens their daily session with a conducted apology, Noah knows straight away that this conversation as not going to be a good one.

"It's fine." He breathes casually, his tone indicating that today the last thing that he wanted to talk about was Rachel… He probably should have known that avoidance would only make her push even harder.

"You know Noah I had a couple of teachers approach me this week about you. They said that you've been distant…" Noah rolls his eyes dramatically; he doesn't even bother trying to hide it. "Have you considered taking a day or two off? I'm sure that the school will understand that you deserve it more than anybody…"

"No," His eyes snap wide with attentiveness. He leans forward, sitting up in his seat as if to get as close to Ms. Pillsbury as he possibly can without standing up. "I'm sorry Ms. Pillsbury but I can't. If I leave school today then I won't be able to play in States, and I _have_ to play in States."

Noah's eyes are wide, desperation written inside of every single worry line chiseled into his skin… He hopes to God that she can understand just how badly Noah needs football, although he is certain that there are very few people in this world who can recognize the addiction.

"You still enjoy playing football?"

"Of course," He is thrown off by her seemingly obvious question, his eyes retreating back inside of his head as his brows arch curiously, "What kind of question is that?"

"Are you still thinking about going to college?" Ms. Pillsbury considers her words carefully before rephrasing her question… Noah sinks immediately, visibly slacking inside of his chair as his muscular limbs fall limp… She isn't trying to ask him about college, she is trying to ask him about his lost scholarships.

"I don't know."

"You know Noah, losing your scholarship offer is not the end of the world, there is still plenty of time for something great to come around for you… You don't _need_ football." Noah scoffs openly. He should have known that Ms. Pillsbury of all people could never possibly understand his need for that sport that has given him so much.

"Yeah I do." He counters with an assuring nod.

"Okay, well have you put anymore thought into what you wanna do after high school?" He perceives her words as mocking him… Why can't this woman understand that he was going to amount to nothing after high school other than flipping burgers at the local McDonalds? Why did she have to rub it in his face? "What would you study if you were to go to college… ideally, I mean?"

"I guess that I've always wanted to be a social worker…" He plays along with her alongside the understanding that holding back would do nothing more but to force him to stay longer… Of course, his admittance does nothing more than open fresh wounds… He regrets it instantly.

"That's a very important job to have… There's a high demand for social workers, not a lot of people are willing to take on the pressures… You would be very good at it, Noah." She tries to praise his rough decision regarding his occupational future, but really, her solidifying the idea of just how great he would be working with troubled kids only makes it hurt worse, "Can you tell me why you're leaning towards that direction?"

"I don't know," He shrugs as if his statement is casual, "I guess that after everything that happened in my family, and to Rachel and me that I wouldn't mind an opportunity to help kids whose lives have been shot to hell just like mine… I always thought that growing up, if I had somebody out there who would actually tell me the truth for a change, things would have been a lot easier than they actually were."

"You're looking for the truth?" She leans forwards against her desk, resting her chin inside of her hands, clearly interested in what Noah's response to her question would be.

"Yeah… I guess." He shrugs quickly; he doesn't really know what else there is for him to say.

"And what do you think the truth is, Noah?" He has no idea where this conversation is headed, what direction Emma Pillsbury wants to steer it towards… Whatever it is, he isn't sure whether he likes it or not.

"That there is no truth." He risks the answer after only a slight hesitation, wondering whether or not this would be appropriate for him to say.

"That seems pretty bleak…" Emma informs him, arching her eyebrows so that Noah can't tell if she's judging him.

"Yeah well, the truth hurts sometimes doesn't it?"

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><p><em>He doesn't understand why he has to stand here.<em>

_It's mid-March, but the upcoming spring heat has already begun to lift the temperature from its freezing winter turmoil into strangling degrees… It isn't exactly hot, but at the same time it is much too warm to be wearing a suit comprised entirely in black._

_ These people are here to see his father, to enact their final goodbyes upon the man who had left his family behind in an unexplainable fit of depression that not even his mother could accurately describe… They were here to see his father, or at least, the shell of who his father once was so that Noah can't understand why he has to stand on the outskirts of an eerie graveyard and pretend to like all of the people who are shuffling inside to offer condolences that Noah has already heard a million times before._

_ He had stopped clutching onto his mother's hand the second that they had arrived… Noah is the man of the family now, his grandfather had told him so himself; that when neither he, nor his Uncle Ephraim was around, Noah had to be the man of the house… It was his responsibility and his alone to protect his mother, his sister… _

_Noah figured that grasping onto his mother for support wouldn't provide a great first impression._

_And just because he had separated himself from the common practice, that didn't mean that his sister felt the same way about things… She was seated inside of a wheelchair, much too weak to be standing on her own accord for this long, looking smaller than what she already was as her arm extended to its full length just so that she could reach Shelby's hand, such a seemingly impossible distance up._

_ "Mrs. Corcoran…" His trained eyes leave the sight of his mother and sister, narrowing protectively inwards upon the man that approaches him and his family as if to analyze him as a potential threat… Noah crosses his arms experimentally across his chest; that, at least, is what all of the superheroes do in his favorite movies when they want to look more intimidating against the bad guy._

_ This man is familiar, Noah recognizes his face immediately… It takes him a moment to place him as a nurse from the hospital that had helped to take care of Rachel while she had been receiving her initial round of chemotherapy… This doesn't strike Noah as entirely unusual, of course… There is a multitude of hospital employees that have come to pay their respects; between the ER staff that had worked with his father, combined with the doctors and nurses that have become synonymous with family in their taking care of Rachel, Noah doesn't identify his presence as being incredibly unusual…_

_The means by which his mother tenses besides him however, has Noah reconsidering. _

"_I'm so sorry…" The man's voice dips, his eyes trained expertly to the ground… Noah knows this tactic, he uses it frequently, every time Shelby catches him in the act of doing something wrong, and never once has it actually worked to get him out of trouble, "About Hiram." _

_ "What are you doing here?" Her voice dips into stone. Experience has Noah retreating naturally, before the reminder that it is not being directed towards him for a change, brings him right back._

_ "I wanted to pay my respects."_

_ "How dare you come here to face me at my husband's funeral," Noah is confused; his mother has spoken no more than a brief display of gratitude towards every single other person that has approached her this morning saying more or less of the exact same thing up until this point, "How dare you come anywhere near my children; his children."_

_ "Mrs. Corcoran…"_

_ "Leave." Noah can feel Shelby pull him in closer against her hip… She is protecting them; Shelby is protecting them when in reality, Noah knows that as the man of the house now, it should be the other way around._

_ "Please…" There is the sense of a plea behind his voice. Noah can tell by the desperation alone just how badly he wants to see his father… Why Shelby will not allow it is a fact that is completely beyond him. _

_ "Leave!"_

_This time, the man doesn't so much as attempt to counter Shelby's insistencies. Instead, he stands his ground for but another brief second, his eyes, blue as ice softening with sorrow before they turn away from the grieving family and back out the way that he had just walked in._

_ From behind, Noah can almost mistake him as Hiram… He has his father's same heavy gait, the one that Noah had inherited from the man. His hair is long, waving slightly behind him, tinting in the sunlight with the slightest hint of gray._

_ Noah forces himself to turn away. Since Hiram's death, Noah has seen a piece of his father just about everywhere that he goes… While both awake and asleep, Noah has learned to see Hiram everywhere._

_ He hasn't told Shelby, and he is certain that he never will for fear that she will relay upon him, the stone hard fact that deep down, Noah already knows – _

_That this is impossible._

* * *

><p>By nightfall, Noah still hasn't been granted the strength that he knows he will need in order to confront Rachel… He silently wonders whether or not he ever will.<p>

It is late; late enough that the last hints of sun peaking up against an otherwise nightfall have finally disappeared entirely, but at the same time, not nearly late enough to have his earlier visit to Lima Memorial nothing less than still fresh and painful inside of his mind.

The only news that Noah had received since was an update from Shelby around midday, informing Noah that everything was the same in regards to Rachel's health, that the doctors were still running tests, that they still had no idea what the hell was wrong with her…

With plenty of gas inside of his car and hours to spare until the sun rose against a new day once more in order to remind him that he can't spend the rest of his life running, Noah takes advantage of his rare, if only brief moment of freedom…

He isn't entirely certain where he is, and he's even less certain where it is that he is going to go, but jerking his wheel to the left or the right every couple of minutes, steering his car into a new, previously unmarked direction seems good enough for him.

This cure isn't permanent, Noah knows that as much as he wishes that somebody could simply hold onto him until all of this pain is gone, that isn't how life worked.

He's not angry with Rachel. It had taken him a couple of hours to truly allow himself to believe this, because as much as he may have wanted to be mad at his sister for being so recklessly stupid, he could never be as mad at her as he was with Finn.

In his mind, Rachel is his family, Finn is just replaceable.

When his cell phone rings, Noah has half the mind not to answer it… The only thing that does get him to finally latch onto the receiver is the idea that it could be his mother on the other end, bearing either good news or bad.

"Hey Puck," The voice is anything but that of his mother's; instead, Ashley Chance, the Cheerio most notorious out of them all for sleeping her way around the football team greets him with a seductive giggle that Noah can detect hints of phoniness from even through the phone.

He rolls his eyes and prays to God that she can hear their motions rotating about their sockets even through the receiver.

"What's up?" His response is dull, uninterested, but the girl on the opposite line is about as dim as a dying light bulb; she doesn't seem to pick up on it… Of course, Noah isn't entirely shocked.

"Did you hear about the party at Adam's house tonight?"

"Yeah," Noah grumbles quickly; of course he had heard of Adam Stephenson's party tonight. He hears about all of the parties that occur within the William McKinley school district… Whether or not he was going to actually go, well that was an entirely different story…

"Well are you gonna go?"

"No," His answer is without hesitation, but the second that it emits from his mouth, he finds himself pausing mid-excuse, his mind flip flopping so rapidly that it makes even his own head spin… A sudden, compulsive thought sparks inside of his mind, and now that the idea is there, Noah can't seem to bring himself to get rid of it… "You know, on second thought, I think that maybe I will stop by."

Who knows; maybe a night's wroth of hard, impulsive partying is all that Noah truly needed right about now.

* * *

><p><em>Experience reminds Noah that after selfishly hogging an entire handle of whisky to himself, even a task as simple as walking from his bedroom to the living room rivals even the most challenging task in the universe.<em>

_His car keys jangle from the index finger of his right hand as he begins to play a game with himself; how long he can hold onto the ring without dropping them… He can't seem to beat his record of three seconds, but then again, maybe he just isn't counting right._

_ "Noah!" His hand is literally against the doorknob when a voice calls to remind him that he was not going to be slipping through the cracks that easily this time around… He had been caught._

_ At least this time, he had simply been caught by his little sister as opposed to his mother… Rachel couldn't stop him. Hell, even if she tried, the girl weighed eighty pounds soaking wet… Noah wasn't afraid of her; hell, he was barely afraid of his own mother these days. _

_ "What?" He toys with the doorknob, jiggling it threateningly beneath his palm as if to tease his sister as she marches forward, her hands on her hips and a stern look written across her face that has her resembling Shelby to the exact._

_ "Where are you going?" Rachel has always been nosy. Noah doesn't even bother rolling his eyes against her inquiry. _

_ "Out," He pushes the single syllable harshly from between his lips, emphasizing the every letter as they slur against his whisky-licked tongue._

_ "You shouldn't be driving." She risks another step forwards… Rachel, it seems, is just about the only person in the entirety of this world that is not afraid of him… Her and their mother, that is. _

_ "And you shouldn't be minding my business." Noah smiles briefly in his taunting of her. She is right however, Noah is not an idiot, he knows this… The problem seems to lie in the idea that he doesn't really care… He releases the doorknob briefly, allows the false hope that maybe her words had actually gotten to him to seep inside of her mind as he takes a handful of slow, carefully paced steps towards his younger sister. "You know Rachel, it would solve about a million different problems for a million different people if I went out right now, flipped my car into a ditch and died… So yeah, I'm going out tonight." _

_ Rachel's eyes turn inwards as he speaks. She listens to absolutely every word that he has to say, taking it to heart in the process… Noah can only hope that she is old enough to understand exactly what he does; that she had been doing it right all along…_

_They should all be so lucky as to have an opportunity to die young._

"_The only thing that mom has been trying to do our whole lives is to save us." Rachel waits until Noah has already turned back towards the door to speak again and this time when Noah freezes, it is not for dramatic effect._

_ "No," He corrects her, turning to face her once more. He needs her to understand that the more that he realizes that he has never actually been the victim in any of this, the easier it was for him to admit who he truly was; a man with absolutely no way by which to speak of. "The only thing that mom has been trying to do our whole lives is to save you."_

* * *

><p>He probably shouldn't be driving. Noah probably shouldn't be driving and he definitely shouldn't be parking on the front lawn of his buddy's house, but then again, Puck Corcoran has always been infamous for his grandiose entrances.<p>

His dramatic entrance serves its purpose, successfully impressing the small group of people loitering outside on the front porch, even the ones that he had almost just run the hell over… They cheer and wave exuberantly as he lays down on his horn simply to make his presence known, not really caring if he achieves a noise complaint from the neighbors in the process…

He steps with an air of illusion onto the grass… While he is already a six pack and a fifth of whisky in, his Cheerio date inside of the passenger's seat can barely stand. Noah is beyond surprised when she manages to lift herself out of the car by herself.

"Escort me inside?" His date stumbles over both her words, as well as her own two feet as she clamors to get to Noah's side, not wanting to spend a single second without being seen on the arm of one of the most popular football players in Lima.

He nods but never actually speaks as she pounces down upon him, aiming for a sloppy kiss to mark their entrance in a manner that Noah dodges expertly, instead, latching onto her neck in a manner that appears to be seductive although the truth was, its only purpose marked Noah's increasing inability to bring himself to actually look into her eyes.

He shouldn't be doing this. But then again, he shouldn't be doing half of the things that he doesn't want the people that he cares the most about to see, so really, this is nothing.

"Yo Puck man, I wasn't sure that you would show!" His entrance through the main doors is met with an eruption of cheers and applause. Noah hasn't exactly been the life of the party these past few weeks; hell, he'd barely even found the time to attend any of them so that his mere presence, combined with the clear fact that he had been drinking heavily was cause enough to celebrate.

"Why would you say that?" He greets his teammate with a sarcastic comment and a grin that makes the girls surrounding him swoon… His backup running back – a good player who rarely saw much time on the field thanks to Noah's sheer talent – extends a hand out towards him that Noah accepts immediately, pulling the young sophomore quickly into his chest in greeting before releasing him once more.

"You're never around anymore, is all…" The boy shrugs as though his answer is obvious; the more Noah thinks about it, the more he realizes that it is. "I guess that showing up with Ashley Chance on your arm is a pretty good kickoff to your return though, huh? Nice going, buddy."

"Yeah well, I figured that it might be about time for a change…" He waves off the boy's playful nudging of congratulations casually because this is what he is best at doing, choosing not to linger as he progresses forward throughout the house, quickly dodging greetings and welcomes, understanding that with every step that he takes, he becomes far less than what even he could possibly understand.

"Puck!" He turns towards a harsh calling of his name, but regrets it almost immediately the second that he sees the determined blonde elbowing her way through an impressive crowd of people, all trying to swarm him…

Her intentions are clear and written straight across her face; Quinn Fabray sure as hell was not here to tell him how great it was to see him out and about at a party for a change.

"What are you doing here?" The Cheerio on his arm clicks her tongue with distaste, Quinn's unceremonious departure from the squad months ago now, and subsequent decline on the social ladder resonating venomously in the sound.

"Go get me a drink, babe…" Noah shoves the girl off of his arm quickly, amazing even himself in his effort to keep Quinn from being any further embarrassed as he pushes her towards the direction of the keg… The truth was that suddenly, Noah finds that he doesn't want another drink nearly as badly as he wants to ensure that nobody else had to hear whatever it was that Quinn was about to say.

"I'm not in the mood, Quinn…" Noah's voice drops the second that his date is out of sight. He can barely be heard above the chattering crowd and roaring music in the background, but Quinn seems to have no problem in picking up every syllable.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She ignores his request to save this conversation for a later date, or, as Noah would prefer it; never. "I heard that Rachel was in intensive care…"

"What the hell are you doing here?" He grows immediately defensive at the sound of Rachel's name, spitting back his retort without a second's hesitation, "I heard that you were yesterday's news…"

"I'm driving Brittney home," Quinn falters at Noah's harsh reminder of her rapid fall from grace, but the blonde regains her balance almost immediately in the recognition of just how quickly she had gone from William McKinley's most notorious party girl to the designated driver of the one Cheerio that existed in her own little world way too much to ever even notice Quinn's abrupt change in social rankings. "She's wasted. I could take you home too if you want… Or you know, back to the hospital to see your sister."

"Whatever," Noah scoffs, blowing off Quinn's offer with a sneer and a determined shake of his head, "Don't pretend like you care about Rachel all of a sudden, or that you know anything about what's going on with her or with me."

"For your information, I went to go see Rachel this afternoon… The difference between my visit and yours is that I didn't barge out on angry tirade." Noah reels slightly, initially surprised by the revelation that Rachel had dished on his abrupt exit from the hospital although he quickly reasons that if she had been drugged up enough to reveal that she had almost slept with his former best friend with him in the room right besides her, than this was nothing. "Your mom told Rachel what she said earlier… She doesn't even remember it happening…"

"You don't know shit Quinn, so just stay out of it!" Noah presses forward. Him and Quinn are so close all of a sudden that he can feel her breathing heavily against him, "You think that just because you apologized to Rachel for treating her like shit for the past sixteen years you have the right to judge me? Update Quinn, you're not exactly in a position to be judging much of anybody right now. Just because hanging out with the sick kid might give you a few extra pity points on your popularity scale doesn't mean that you can come over here and call me out."

He doesn't wait to see her reaction to his perhaps unfair attack on her motives… He doesn't want to see her jaw dropping in shock towards his words, her eyes widening with offense… Instead, he simply turns his back on her, marching further into the house, elbowing anybody who dares get in his way as he barrels through the hallway.

"Puck, come take this shot!" The offer of alcohol ultimately is the only thing that stops him; a handful of his football buddies gathered in a tight circle, each raising a small shot glass full to the brim with a golden liquid.

Handed a spare, filled for good measure, the glass is thrust into Noah's palm before he so much as has the opportunity to accept or decline it, allowing him to understand that he does not have much of a choice in the manner.

"Yeah, alright…" Noah shrugs as if his actions are casual, bringing the edge of the glass to his lips before he snaps his head quickly backwards… He identifies the potent, revealing stench of tequila before he tastes it burning against the back of his throat…

It is just enough that he gags on the taste, not quite enough to get him to stop.

Noah loses count at five, loses track of his original intentions after a couple more as he sees Ashley Chance, his date for the night, balancing two beers between her hands, its contents sloshing out of the sides of the Solo cups as she struggles to find him in her drunken stupor…

He doesn't want to see her, doesn't want to be forced to linger on a single person in a single place, content with the idea of moving from group to group and place to place for a few minutes of casual conversation, just as long as its patrons contribute to his continued efforts to get as drunk as humanly possible.

Sneaking through the back door, Noah keeps his head down until he's certain that he has made a clear escape onto the back deck… The crowd has thinned out dramatically out here as compared to inside of the house, and Noah's eyes quickly latch onto the first familiar face that he sees -

Finn.

The enormous kid that he has foolishly considered to be his best friend until he had betrayed his trust in a manner that Noah is not entirely certain he could ever forgive is clutching onto the deck rail for support, struggling to keep himself upright… The boy is barely stable on two sober feet, let alone two drunk ones.

"Yo, Puck!" Noah is just contemplating the idea of making a clean escape rather than confronting Finn and making a total scene when Finn spots him from the corner, making a fight nothing short of inevitable. "Puck, come over here man!"

Noah's eyes narrow in his anger as he stuffs his hands inside of his jeans pockets and attempts to control his breathing, trying not to look too suspicious as he approaches the small group comprised of Finn, Matt Rutherford and Mike Chang…

"Jesus, aren't you supposed to be the fastest running back in Ohio, move faster dude!" Finn makes an attempt at a joke, but Noah's blood is already boiling throughout his heart, leaving the organ sweltering against the center of his chest as he tenses with the motion of Finn's arm wrapping around the back of his broad shoulders. "This kid, this kid right here is my best friend… We're gonna give you guys State on Saturday, don't you worry… Hear that, everybody! Here's to God, here's to football and here's to Ohio's best."

Noah's heart is pumping almost painfully as his fingers begin to twitch on their own accord, clenching and unclenching into tight fists… The reminder of Noah's distinct lack of control, the reminder of the fact that he is not always as larger than life as he believes hit him hard, the mysterious transgressions emanating in the strength of a fist that flashes forwards and collides with the center of Finn Hudson's face.

He is only vaguely aware of the short gasps of surprise that surround him as what seems like the entire party freezes all around him… All eyes are pointed forward, teemed directly towards Noah's hovering form, and Finn's stumbling one as the surprise force of the punch sends Finn staggering backwards, falling straight onto his ass against the deck below.

"What the hell did you do to my sister?" Noah regains his ground quickly, hovering over Finn who is sprawled vulnerably against his back… Draping one leg on either side of Finn's chest, Noah ducks into a squat, reaching down to grab at the collar of Finn's polo, raising the boy slightly so that he makes sure that they are eye to eye when he tells Finn that with everything going wrong and not a chance for it to be fixed, he had no choice but to express the notion that he has given up entirely in the form of a clenched fist flying towards his former best friend's face.

"What the fuck, man?" Finn is torn between confusion and anger and Noah takes advantage of the disarray, only clenching onto Finn's shirt even tighter as the boy attempts to writhe his way out of Noah's grip.

"She's in the fucking hospital, Finn! She's dying and it's all your fucking fault!" Finn pauses in his struggles beneath Noah, reeling in his shock towards Noah's revelation of Rachel's current status, which he has clearly yet to be made aware of…

He wants to kill Finn… That storm inside of her chest – the same one that he had felt the day that he had beaten Karofsky – is back and if anything, it is stronger… Deep down, Noah knows that it is not Finn's fault that Rachel had been hospitalized; hell, it was of no fault other than the merciless disease currently rampaging her body, but still, it makes Noah feel better to imagine his fists raining down upon Finn, blow after blow connecting directly with Finn's smug face.

Even he is surprised when the tight grip that his clenched fingers makes with the fabric of Finn's t-shirt releases, his knees lifting him into a standing position as he barges through the crowd, forming a tight circle about them that Noah has no choice but to shove his way through.

Clearly, Noah has run out of opportunity. Staggering backwards, he pushes away at all of the comforting hands that rain down upon his shoulders, ignores the scared look of timid friends who know not to get too close to him when he gets like this…

Noah's eyes are clouded by tears. He can't seem to distinguish between a single face as he rapidly begins to hyperventilate, oxygen wheezing progressively into and out of his lungs, none of it actually lingering long enough to be of any benefit…

He had told Rachel not to believe in him. He'd _warned_ her not to trust him… Noah had always known to do it, because the second that he believed himself to be anything even close to what Rachel always believed him to be, there he was, pushing everybody away once more.

He could only hope that those who mattered the most to him would still be able to forgive him despite everything that he continued to lack.

"Puck!" He ignores the voice calling him, just like he had ignored all of the ones before it, but it remains persistent… Unlike the rest, instead of getting further, this one only gets closer, pounding in time with hurried footsteps that filter into his ears to indicate that whoever is calling towards him, is also running to catch up, "Puck… Noah, wait!"

He pauses at the sound of his real name. His friends never call him Noah; hell, they didn't dare to… Besides his family, and most recently Santana, who had recently fallen into the habit while living in the Corcoran home, he is certain that nobody else even knows that his legal name isn't actually_ Puck_.

The last person that he is expecting to see is Quinn, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that this was stupid of him… Quinn, it seems, is the only person that has been on his side all night… as strange as that may sound.

"Noah, come on!" To Noah's genuine surprise, Quinn doesn't try to stop his frantic forward motions, she doesn't try to comfort him or get him to talk to her just like the rest of them had. Instead, she latches onto his elbow with a surprisingly strong grip for a girl of her stature, and assists his motions forward and out the front door.

"Here, get in…" Quinn guides him quickly towards her car parked directly on the street outside. He has a vague flash of Brittney passed out and sprawled across the backseat of Quinn's car but Noah doesn't allow his eyes to linger, instead, he forces himself to regain control in front of Quinn, and obediently follows her every order.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Noah squints as he settles inside of the passenger's seat, fascinated with the idea that the second that he stops moving, the room immediately begins to spin.

"Because we all need help sometimes," Quinn offers the reminder with a surprisingly all-knowing tone as if this is a place that she has been before as well. Shrugging, she turns the keys in the ignition, lighting up her VW Beetle in a manner that has Noah grimacing with the brightness, "It's just that not all of us are so easily willing to ask for it… I know that, and so does Rachel."

"I don't get it; what exactly are you trying do, give me advice now?" He's understandably confused, although he can't be certain whether this is because Quinn Fabray is actually giving him sound advice for a change, or because he can't unscramble exactly what it is that she is trying to say. "What are you saying; that I should be more honest with people from now on?"

"I'm saying that you can't always let other people come before you."

"Okay fine, I'm gonna start telling the truth to people from now on…" His confusion is prominent in the slurring of his words as he closes his eyes and leans his head backwards against the rest, begging the world to stop spiraling all around him, "It's the least that I can do with all of the things that I never said."

"Well maybe you should wait until the morning…" Quinn offers the friendly reminder, but Noah has the slightest idea that this is simply because she doesn't want to hear the truth about what he has to say to her.

"I should have said more nice things to you. I should have said some more nice things to Santana while we were still dating, like about how much I loved her… Maybe then she wouldn't have left me."

"She's gay, Noah…" Quinn is Noah's voice of reason, and in an ironic twist of fate, she is suddenly the one that is keeping him afloat, "I'm sure that things would have just gone from bad to worse should you two have stuck around with each other."

"Love only comes to people who still have hope, even after everything around them tells them to just give up… I don't understand how anybody like Santana or Rachel can still love after they've been hurt by life so many times before…" Noah rambles heavily, his most discrete of feelings as in the backseat of Quinn's car, Brittney begins to snore heavily; offering both conscious patrons a friendly reminder that the blonde is indeed still alive anymore.

"I wonder if that's why I can't dream anymore…"

* * *

><p><strong>Anon<strong>** – Trust me I am too! I was torn for a little while, but decided against it in the end. Still, there close call is going to lead to tensions, between Rachel and Finn and Finn and Noah so I'm sure you will enjoy that it's going to be the Whole World vs. Finn Hudson coming up! Things are definitely going to get worse before they get better, but there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. Thanks for the review.**

**Clara Meliza**** – Haha I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing :)**

**FlatWeasley**** – Sorry to make you cry! I'm sorry to say that Rachel's in for a tough time ahead, but she's a strong girl with a good support system. Thank you so much for your kind words!**

**Sillystarshine**** – I know, I hate cliffhangers but I feel like I've been doing them a lot to you guys lately, I feel bad! Thank you for the review!**

**Baygirl123**** – This was just the beginning of the drama! I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for everything!**

**Nerdygirl3**** – I'm glad you enjoy it! It means a lot to me, saying thank you is nowhere near enough!**

**Miriam**** – Thank you so much for leaving such a beautiful review! It means everything so thank you! I have a plan for a point of view from a younger Rachel down the line, in the next little "segment" of chapters so don't worry! I've unfortunately seen a lot of families go through very similar experiences. I was lucky enough to have done an internship at Children's Hospital Boston my last three years in college and worked primarily in oncology. It was an amazing experience but still, working in fields like that have a tendency to drain you so writing kind of became my stress reliever. Thanks again!**

**Amandaes417**** – Haha sorry to keep leaving you with cliffhangers! Rachel's birthday definitely does rank pretty high up there in terms of sucky birthdays. Thanks for the review!**

**Isabella Poulous**** – Thank you so much! It's an honor to be compared to chocolate chip cookie dough because that's pretty hard to beat :) Don't be sorry for mentioning anything! I honestly had no idea, I'm terrible with legal things and nitty gritty stuff (I have a very strictly science based mind). But really, I have a pet peeve about trying to be as factual as possible for me personally when I write so I appreciate the information. Thanks for teaching me a truckload of new stuff this week!**

**Princess-N-xoxo **** – I know, I know I'm sorry I just couldn't help myself! Rachel is going to have a tough road ahead of her, she's a strong girl though she isn't willing to give up that easily! Thank you for your review!**

**Gleesam**** – Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying so far! Shelby's POV is coming up after Noah's. Noah is going to get two more chapters after this one and then it will be Shelby's turn. Thanks for the review! **


	35. Noah Corcoran April 2001

**So this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, I figured I'd cut you guys some reading slack, also I've been away these past few days so I threw this together a bit quickly just for something to put up so I hope that in my rush things didn't get too messed up.  
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**Enjoy :)  
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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – April 2001

* * *

><p>He isn't sick.<p>

He isn't sick, at least, not like his sister is anyway. But the fact that he is stuck inside of the hospital allows Noah to conclude that he might as well be.

He is alone, stuck in complete solitude as he curls into the fetal position, testing every position possible to ease the dull pain that radiates across his hipbone and up through his very spine.

The mattress that he lays in is lumpy and uncomfortable; he has quickly found that hospital beds are nowhere near as fun here as they were in Rachel's room… Maybe this is because when he's laying inside of Rachel's bed, he actually has the option of getting back out again whenever it is that he wants to.

Everywhere around him is dully lit, freezing cold and entirely unfamiliar… In a place like this, it is easy for him to believe that he is the last human being in the entirety of the world still alive… Who knew, maybe he is. Maybe, in the hour or so that he had been fast asleep in surgery for, there had been some sort of global catastrophe, a massive apocalypse, and he had missed out on its effects solely for the idea that he had been sleeping.

It seems like a silly idea, but at the same time the only plausible explanation that he can conclude as to why his mother had yet to come and visit him… Although it seems more likely – Noah tells himself – that she is probably just with Rachel.

For the briefest of blissful seconds, Noah finds himself half expecting his father to walk through the door, to greet him, to ask him how he is feeling, to try and make him laugh as to forget about the pain as Hiram had always done when Noah had fallen ill…

The reminder that Hiram was not coming back, that he would not be visiting Noah that he was dead and buried serves as an even deeper pain than even the physical.

It has already been one month… Well, one month and four days, if you wanted to get technical, but still, Noah finds himself waiting for his father every single second of every single day… He still expects Hiram's car to pull up inside of its usual spot in the driveway. He still expects him to walk through the front door clad in a pair of light blue scrubs, fresh from a day's work. He still expects his father to be on call to play with him, to take his mind off of things when the going got tough… a tactic that they could all use every now and then.

Noah turns over carefully inside of his bed, double checking as if to ensure that Shelby is not present in the doorway although he isn't entirely sure why he even bothered… He has already been awake over an hour, and at this point, he can't even be certain that Shelby even knew… or cared.

He crawls towards the corner of his bed, chooses to ignore the searing pain that his every motion brings as he grabs at the small duffel that his mother had helped him pack a mere night before, digging through its contents only briefly before his tiny fingers grasp about the fabric of one of his father's old t-shirts; the one that he had managed to tuck away inside of his bag the moment that he was certain that Shelby was no longer looking.

It had been a quick exchange, remarkably reminiscent of his recent growth in devious behavior… He had stolen the polo directly out from under Shelby's nose just as she had begun going through the motions of cleaning his belongings from their home, not a week after the funeral…

Noah had put up a fight against the action, of course he had. He simply could not understand why it was that Shelby would choose to throw out the last remaining relics that they had of his father… Even still, he can't.

The old shirt sags down to his ankles every time he drapes it about his head, its hem barely raised so much as an inch off of the ground… Hiram had never been a remarkably tall man, of course, but Noah had barely just turned seven; he was nothing close to a giant quite yet either.

The cotton shines a bright blue, the kind that positively reflects off of a nice glare of the sun, the kind that had matched his father's ocean eyes to the exact, making them shine, if possible, even more… Noah had a history of insisting that his father wear the polo too all of his little league matches, that way, Noah would always be able to spot him in the crowd…

Wearing that shirt, Noah had used to been able to spot Hiram out in the parking lot all the way from home plate, but the second that he had walked directly past Shelby with the fabric hanging loosely about his thin shoulders, he had made it to safety without her even noticing.

It would not be the first time that Noah had ever wondered, whether or not he is turning into a mere ghost.

Crawling back against his mattress, he curls the fabric into a ball beneath his palms, clutching until his knuckles turn white as he holds the shirt directly under his nose and makes a habit out of inhaling.

Hiram's scent flutters through his nostrils, but still, it has been a long time… The last lingering memory that Noah has collected of his father is rapidly becoming overshadowed by the natural process of wear and tear…

The fresh scent of Hiram's signature cologne is rapidly giving way to the musky collection of mildew, pent up from the hiding space in the back of Noah's closet, the potent aroma of sweat; a result of having been caught beneath a collection of Noah's used football gear.

Everything, it seems that Noah is reaching for, is rapidly falling just out of his reach. It is a result, it seems, that is starting to become typical.

Noah's head begins spinning with an overwhelming desire, his heart aching with yearning… Quickly, Noah Corcoran is starting to learn that when you lose a person that you love, it does not happen all at once but in small, fragmented pieces… In a way, this only makes things harder, and the word _mourning_, he's found out, doesn't always have to refer solely to a time of the day.

Like Noah said, he isn't sick but he might as well be.

According to his mother, her and his father had passed along to Noah, something much more valuable than an empty hospital room and a lingering stench against a used old shirt…

You see, what they have given to Noah that was _inside_ of their son, as it turns out was exactly the same thing that they had given to Rachel that was inside of her as well.

Noah had thought it silly at the time. He had learned in school that everybody has the same insides; a heart, a brain, two lungs and that sort of thing… But eventually, by the way that Shelby had described it to him Noah had found out that while everybody did have all of those sorts of things, they also had something else, something that was critical to Rachel's case – they had different _types_ of those things.

Except for him and Rachel who were exactly the same; and somehow, this concept was exactly what was going to make Rachel better again.

Noah finds the entire thing to be remarkably bizarre; the idea that one day very soon, there will be a piece of him, buried and multiplying deep within his sister's veins.

Initially, he had found himself humored with the idea, taunting Rachel by informing her that once the transplant occurred, she would turn into him completely; she would start acting like him, dressing like him, hell, she would even morph into him until the two were identical.

It had taken Shelby an entire hour to calm a hysterical Rachel, who had quickly decided that she no longer wanted to go through with the transplant simply for fear that she would turn into her brother.

Noah had been sent immediately into timeout, a furious Shelby banishing him into the hallway throughout the entirety of her attempts to wrestle with her sobbing daughter as she struggled to convince Rachel that a bone marrow transplant would not really change who she was on the outside.

His mother had sent him into solitary in order to think about his actions and their subsequent consequences, and the more that he actually did think about them, the more Noah realized just how much he would miss his sister should this transplant actually change her in the manner that Noah teased that it would.

He had watched from his position across the hallway as Rachel wailed; flailing her arms about, resisting comfort even from the arms that she has long since deemed the safest…

Shivers had wracked his body with a sudden force that had nearly knocked him over. He'd felt as though a gust of cold win had rained down the length of the hospital, burning through his body leaving him restless, unsettled as his face contorts with the realization towards the root of the very center of all of his fears -

That Noah simply couldn't stand the thought of losing his sister in any capacity.

* * *

><p>"<em>Noah, can you come here for a minute?"<em>

_The boy hesitates naturally before risking a handful of steps forwards but even still, he finds himself lingering against the corner that separates the open hallway from the cramped, private waiting room that his mother is currently taking up residence inside of… Noah has learned not to trust confined spaces; he clutches the drywall tightly, as if this could ever possibly save him from what it was that his mother had to say._

_It just seemed as though as of late, the only time that Shelby ever opened her mouth was to deliver more bad news._

_Noah pretends as if he hadn't heard the tears; his mother crying water droplets that could fill oceans as she spoke with Dr. McCarthy for the past hour or so; Rachel sleeping blissfully inside of her lap, the drugs flooding through her system ensured that she remained peacefully ignorant… _

_He pretends as if he hasn't been watching the clock with a careful accuracy, he pretends as if he doesn't know that their diminished family now as approximately fourteen minutes left to arrive at their father's funeral before they instead miss it in its entirety. _

_They had been halfway out the door before they'd been called back; an event, it seems, that has grown rather typical these past few weeks… months, even. _

_Shelby had sent Noah into the hallway to play nearly an hour ago, but still wearing the black suit that he intends to wear to his father's funeral should they ever actually arrive, something inside of the obedient depths of his mind tells him that he should not be getting dirty. _

_ For the first time in his young life, Noah avoids playtime, and instead sits diligently inside of the uncomfortable, orange plastic chairs that align the designated waiting section of the hallways… It had been obvious at the time that she had not wanted him to hear the conversation that she was about to have… It was obvious now that she was still unsure as to whether or not she wanted him present._

_ Noah had spent the last hour dangling his legs, swinging him gently as he silently wonders whether or not Shelby is discussing their father's fate with the doctor before her… It is the only explanation that Noah can think of as to why Shelby would be so upset… Either that or somebody else has died._

_ He breathes deeply as he eyes Shelby, just waiting for her to speak… He had spent the last hour silently wondering what it was that his mother was discussing, but now that the opportunity has arisen, he isn't so sure that he wants to find out… This is all too real, and Noah is well aware of the idea that he has been torn from his prime age to bask fondly in the practice of blissful ignorance much too soon._

_Noah Corcoran is tired of pretending, but still, he finds himself pretending not to notice that his mother's hands are shaking as she grasps him by his thin shoulders and guides him towards one of the couches at the far corner of the room. _

_ Shelby strategically makes a journey out of ensuring her own comfortability as well; designated as much time as humanly possible to seat herself besides her son, toying with her own two hands for a period so lengthy, that Noah is practically hypnotized before finally, Shelby finds it in herself to turn her head upwards and speak. _

_ "Noah, do you remember when me and your dad…" She forces herself to pause already, swallowing heavily… Her eyes are forced to a close at the mere reminder of Hiram. Noah is all but forced to look away, just so that he wouldn't have to see his mother cry anymore. "Do you remember right after Rachel got sick, when I explained to you what was wrong with your sister? I know that I said a lot of big words that day, but do you remember me telling you that one day, Rachel might need something called a bone marrow transplant to help make her better again?" _

_ Noah nods his head but the truth is that his eyes remain clueless… His attempts towards proving his competence to his mother are shadowed by mere vague memories that date back to the day of Rachel's diagnosis; the large majority of them clouded in sadness, with nothing even close to a logical explanation towards why it was that God had to chose them to let all of his anger out on. _

_ "Bone marrow, it… it helps to make new blood in your body, but Rachel's bone marrow, it isn't working right… That's why she has cancer." Shelby immediately notices the lack of recognition behind her son's brown eyes. She offers her best attempts towards an explanation, desperate to sugarcoat the words in a manner that a seven year old could understand, but even Noah can tell that she's struggling. "What might make Rachel better again is to take somebody else's bone marrow out of them – somebody who is healthy, and who's body can make normal cells – and to put it inside of Rachel's body." _

_ "But won't the person who gives Rachel their bone marrow need theirs?" His confusion is apparent, yet sill entirely expected… The concept of taking out a piece of your body and placing it into somebody else's is simply one that is much too foreign for a seven year old to understand… Noah finds that it sounds strangely like a scenario from one of those superhero cartoons he likes to watch on the rare Saturday morning that Rachel is not hogging the television. _

_ "A healthy person can make more when they need it." Shelby explains gently through a sad smile, her patience profound and written clear across her eyes as she pauses briefly, her face contorting in a manner that makes it clear, just how hard she is trying to determine the best manner by which to approach this, "Rachel… she can't quite do that. That's why she's gonna need a little bit of help."_

_ "Are you gonna give Rachel your bone marrow, momma?"_

_ "No sweetie, I can't…" Her eyes sink; darkening with a deep storm cloud that reflects straight inside of Noah's heart… He can practically feel her regret, her sadness towards this notion seep straight out of her lungs and into his own. "You see Noah, in order to give somebody your bone marrow you need to make sure that the two people have the same type of it first… Most people don't have the same type, and if Rachel gets some that is not the same kind as hers it can make her very, very sick."_

_ "Even more sick than she is right now?" Noah believes this feat to be impossible. He can't possibly imagine a situation in which anybody could be sicker than Rachel was right now without them being sent straight up to heaven with his dad. _

_ "Yes Noah," Shelby confirms the idea that you can indeed be even sicker. That you can be much, much sicker… The idea alone leaves the small boy shivering with discomfort. It is bad enough having to see Rachel in the state that she is in right now. He doesn't even want to imagine what it might be like should she get even sicker than she already is, "Even more sick."_

_ "Can I give her my bone marrow, momma?" The idea pops inside of his head with a sudden, unexpected force. It is a sweeping decision that seems obvious and logical enough… If his mother can't save Rachel, than wouldn't her big brother be the second best option?_

_ "That's what the doctor's hope buddy…" His heart lifts with hope, a broad smile clearing across the length of his face… He was going to be his sister's hero; just like he had promised straight from the very beginning. "You see, because you get what type of bone marrow that you have from both your mom and your dad, there's a chance that you and Rachel might be a match… that you might be Rachel's only match."_

_ "What happens if I'm not? What happens if Rachel doesn't get it?" The idea scares him; he has the strangest feeling that he already knows the answer, but for some reason, he needs to hear his mother say it anyway. "Will she go to heaven with daddy?" _

_ "She might." Tears spring inside of Shelby's eyes once more. Noah feels terribly right away, regretting his decision to commit to this question so heatedly, knowing full well its repercussions. _

_ "I don't want Rachel to leave." Noah takes a stab at redeeming himself, confirming that he truly does enjoy his sister's presence, trying to make his mother smile alongside the idea that although he may pick on her sometimes, he didn't have to look far to realize that he truly does love his little sister… _

_ "Me neither, buddy…" Shelby assures him, and inside of her eyes, Noah can see the same exact thing that he is thinking; that the prospects of living in a life without either his father, or Rachel seemed pretty grim, "Me neither._

_In the end, it takes three nurses to hold him down as the doctor struggles to find a space in which Noah will sit still long enough to slide the needle inside of his veins with the precision necessary to collect his blood… or more specifically, the precious cells that are contained within it. _

_ They are already expecting not to pull enough of a sample into the first tube. They're halfway to sedating the boy simply to get him to sit still long enough to collect what is necessary, when Noah manages a glimpse past all of the white coats and scrubs… _

_Rachel is sitting in a large chair in the corner of the exam room. Her scrawny legs are bent into an awkward pretzel that fully demonstrates her impressive flexibility. Her bald head shines beneath fluorescent lighting. Half of her face is concealed by a protective surgical mask designed to prevent any infection that is much bigger than she currently is from entering her system; Noah cannot see her mouth, but still, he manages to catch it from inside of her eyes. _

_Slowly, it begins to build until eventually, he finds himself able to hear it as well… Rachel is laughing. _

_A broad giggle that seems to originate from the very pit of her stomach, the sound strikes Noah like a slap across the face in the reminder that he hasn't heard his sister laugh like this in months… She is comically amused by Noah's pain, simply for the fact that this time around, it finally isn't her for a change. _

_Noah is well aware that at this point, Rachel could sit through a procedure five times more painful than this without feeling so much as a thing._

_He finds it suddenly much more difficult to feel badly for himself. This time, he doesn't even notice when the needle breaks through the barricade of his skin, and the doctors collect everything that they need to determine whether or not Noah was capable of becoming Rachel's saving grace. _

* * *

><p>He doesn't understand it in its entirety.<p>

Sure, there were a lot of things around here that a boy of his age couldn't, and probably shouldn't possibly understand… Experience has taught Noah a lot about those very things but this… well this made absolutely no sense.

The continuous confusion that lingered inside of his mother's eyes as doctor's flip flopped relentlessly as to how to go about this procedure proves to Noah that even with age, he may never fully understand the idea that the second he'd submitted his blood, he had inadvertently and permanently proven his being Rachel's perfect chromosomal match…

It had a been a one in four chance, 25% - or so everybody said – that him and Rachel would be identical in this manner; two perfectly histocompatible HLA matches… To Noah, these odds seemed decent enough; of course, everybody else knew that the consequences were much too steep to gamble.

It is almost as if while Rachel was being made, that some entity from way up above that had stricken her down into this poor, defenseless body had anticipated this moment, had ensured that while they would provide Rachel with the faulty genes that would make her sick in the first place, they would also ensure that she would be granted an older brother, completely capable of stepping in to become her genetic savior.

Noah justifies his current, devious plan with the idea that it was at least nice for him to have been born for a purpose; to have something, anything to mark this world at all…

He is young; Noah knows this better than anybody else, but still, that doesn't mean that he isn't observant, it doesn't mean that he doesn't notice all of the other families; parents of young kids who look at their children with nothing but regret, treating them like crap simply because _they_ hadn't been careful enough not to bring a human being that they didn't want into their sole care and custody.

Noah is not an idiot. He knows that there are a lot of people out there that think he is, but he isn't.

It had been him – much to his mother's horror – that had explained to a very confused three year old Rachel exactly how it was that babies were produced and born, including herself… Noah still has the marks on his bottom from the spanking that he had received from his father that night. He can still recall his mother sitting in the corner trembling her thanks that at least Rachel was still too young to understand what it was that she had just heard.

People tended not to underestimate the Corcoran children anymore. But suddenly, Noah finds himself wishing that he could have a purpose larger than simply to give body parts to his sister when hers stopped working properly.

The outcome as a whole was starting to appear pretty bleak for them all.

The second that Noah shoots upwards inside of his bed and rips the IV line straight from the back of his right hand in an effort to achieve a higher state of mobility, he immediately begins to wonder why it was that he didn't think of this sooner.

His bones ache and groan in protest as he maneuvers himself carefully around the protective bedrails currently attempting to die him down to his room; the growth hormone injections that he has been receiving for weeks now in an effort to boost his stem cell count rearing their ugly head in the reminder of everything that he has since been forced to give up in the name of his family.

The young child has since mapped the entirety of the blueprint of Lima Memorial Hospital into the very center of his brain. He knows the rough sketch of its interior better than he knows the back of his own hand… When he leaves to make his journey towards Rachel's hospital room, he finds that he is able to do so with a relative ease.

His feet stomp aggressively as he moves, taking as discrete a path as humanly possible as to not arouse too many suspicions as to why a child was travelling alone throughout the hospital wearing nothing but a hospital gown, sporting a bandaged hip and a bleeding hand from where his IV port used to be.

His arrival outside of Rachel's room is met with little to no interference. His intentions seem clear, their obviousness written across his face. He is going to give his mother a piece of his mind for her apparent abandonment of him, and he was going to show absolutely no mercy.

The words are half out of his mouth when they are forced abruptly back down his very throat.

People had a strong tendency to keep Noah in the dark about most things… They have a tendency to falsely assume that he can't handle them, that he was too young to hear such a thing when the reality of the matter is that he had been forced to grow up months ago now.

Noah can tell that things are bad the second that he spots his Uncle Ephraim… Judging by the fact that he only ever sees his uncle either during every other holiday or in the midst of a tragedy, he deduces that seeing as how Passover isn't for another three weeks, tragedy is the only option.

Besides his distant uncle, Noah gradually begins to pinpoint various family; his grandparents, Aunt Krista, his Uncle Ephraim's wife who he doesn't even know well enough to remember her name, let alone address her as his aunt, and their children; three young cousins that he's never even met.

For the briefest of moments this makes Noah, if anything, more enraged towards the idea that nobody has so much as considered coming to his aid in order to see how he was faring post surgery; but the feeling is only momentary.

Eventually, his eyes manage to latch onto his mother's form; and with this vision, he feels an iron fist clasp in a vice grip about his stomach.

Technically, Noah hears Shelby before he actually sees her… She's speaking animatedly, talking with hands as her sad, tired eyes drain with desperation. She's speaking in the far corner of the room with Rachel's doctor. His initial thought is only amplified.

This is bad.

He doesn't manage to catch ever word that Shelby is speaking, only brief segments, interludes in which he manages to catch both his own name as well as Rachel's… The second that he hears the phrase _last chance_ emit from her mouth, Noah knows that she must be talking about the upcoming transplant.

Tears of rage sting at the corners of his eyes all over again. He finds his profound anger refueled against his temporary setback of confusion, rage building inside of his skull in a manner that leaves his head throbbing and begins to frighten even him…

The thing is that his mother is _right there_ in the physical, but mentally she seems so far away… She is standing directly across from him. He is staring at her clear on; a perfect picture that he knows she could reciprocate should she simply choose too…

Yet still, she doesn't seem to notice; she never does these days.

His mother does not seem to understand that today; Rachel is not the only one of her children trapped inside of a hospital.

"Are you sure that this is necessary?" An additional handful of steps forward gives Noah a clearer picture of the conversation currently blooming between his mother and Rachel's doctor. He grasps onto the heavy metal frame lining the doorway of Rachel's hospital room, peers inside and finds that it's easier to pretend that he is a ghost.

Shelby bites nervously at her fingernails; chewed down to the quick already, Noah watches as tiny amounts of blood leak from the tips of her fingers; Noah grimaces, but Shelby doesn't seem to notice.

"Noah has already gone through so much I don't want him to have to go through anymore pain." The boy's eyebrows arch with confusion… At least Shelby was finally recognizing the plight that the boy had taken to get to this point. At least she still remembers that she has a son to defend, and not just a daughter.

"Shelby, I know that you're upset but the fact of the matter is that things like this have a tendency to happen sometimes… We simply did not get nearly as many viable stem cells from the harvest as we wanted to… or needed to. There is no way around putting Noah under again and going back in. This is necessary Shelby." Noah gulps subconsciously in his fear towards the doctor's words… His hands snake subconsciously against his lower back, rubbing against the bandage attempting and failing to confine the pain still radiating from the first time that he had been put under… And now they wanted to do it again? "This is out last option, Shelby. I know that this is going to sound blunt, but without this transplant, Rachel _is_ going to die."

Noah's eyes catch the sudden movement as Rachel's eyes snap upwards in response to the sound of her name… Her face doesn't change with the mention of her seeming guaranteed death… At this point, his sister is so used to casual conversation regarding her assumed fate that it probably no longer even fazes her.

She is draped inside of blankets that are twice her size. Toys surround her at ever corner; attempted figurines of distraction, no doubt planted there by their family in an effort to occupy her mind… The intended play things remain untouched. Rachel is simply much too sick, much too tired to be bothered with such trivialities.

Instead she simply lays there, reminding everybody in her submission, that she is no longer the child that she was a five months ago.

It takes mere seconds for her eyes to meet with his own. Rachel spots her brother, staring up towards him looking sunken, forlorn, defeated… Her lips tilt softly upwards. It takes every ounce of energy that the young girl still has left inside of her to commit to this motion – Noah can tell this much – but still, it lingers, and if Rachel can put in the effort than well, so can he.

He reciprocates her actions almost immediately; he smiles because he is finally starting to realize the price of his own pain, the consequences of his fear; that without Rachel, it is hard for him to remember who he is.

He smiles because it is nice to finally be reminded that he is not the only person out there in this wide, vast, and sometimes terrifying universe.

He smiles, because he has finally found the only person who ever seems to notice that he's even there.


	36. Noah Corcoran December 2011 Part II

**Hey guys, took a spontaneous and much needed camping trip up to Vermont this weekend so I'm sorry for the delay, but this chapter is another pretty long one so I hope it was worth the wait! **

**Also, I just wanted to let you know that I've been toying with the idea of a sequel these last couple of days. Of course, I have absolutely no idea what the main plot would be just yet, but I really do love writing this little family so I'm reluctant to let them go (even though there's probably going to be at least ten more chapters of this story haha) **

**Anyways, that's about all I've got for you. Just one more thing, there's a tad bit of football references (American Football that is) in this chapter so I apologize in advance for all of you that don't live in the States/know nothing about football. I tend to get a bit carried away :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – December 2011  
><em>(Part II)<em>

* * *

><p>He wakes up with a headache that can rival any that he's ever previously experienced, but then again, Noah has to admit that he's found himself saying this a lot lately… He can only assume that this is the price that one must pay for a utter and complete loss of control.<p>

His eyes are painfully blurry. Through the fog of alcohol still attempting to process its way through his system – even hours later – Noah's fuzzy ears distinguish between a distant sound…

At first, Noah mistakes it easily for a foghorn. For the briefest of moments, he actually forgets himself and allows the assumption that he is stuck on a boat in the middle of the damn ocean cross his mind before slowly, the dull roar develops into a much clearer, much more distant wail.

"Noah!"

The mere sound alone is enough to make his stomach churn. His name pierces like a bullet directly through the center of his forcibly closed eyes, causing him to wince harshly even in his sleep – "Noah, wake up!"

The boy groans inwardly, grabbing at the closest of the multitude of pillows that he sleeps with, pushing the cushion firmly against his face… He cannot breathe, but in his mind this is a small price to pay for blocking out both the sunlight, as well as the voice attempting to rouse him.

"Get the hell out of my room!" Noah flails blindly, attempting to make physical contact with whoever dare disturb him, hoping that a smidgeon of violence will provide more than enough incentive to grant him a couple extra hours of much needed sleep.

"You have to wake up and go to school!" There is an annoyance about her persistence that only his mother can rival… If he hadn't known any better, he would assume it to be Shelby at his bedside, all but physically tossing him from his mattress. "Come on Noah, I'm not going to let you miss States tonight just because you got too blasted on a school night to adhere to the attendance policy."

Her insistence is uncanny… Her tone alone is enough to force Noah to sneak a single, inquisitive eye open… Noah glares briefly, the sunlight damn near blinding him against the indistinguishable silhouette before him so that for the briefest of seconds, Noah allows himself to believe that his mother had actually left Rachel's side long enough to pester him about waking up for school.

He is almost disappointed when it only turns out to be Santana.

"Come on, Noah!" She grows louder in her attempts to hand walk him through these last few steps of consciousness, her hands wailing down across his thick trunk, tiny hand latching onto any joint that she can manage a good grip as she attempts to literally pull the boy that is twice her size onto his own two feet.

If anything, her efforts only make his headache even worse… These days, with Santana living under the same roof as him, shuffling about and ordering Noah around as if she were his parent, Noah has found himself struggling to consider Santana anything less than family…

It makes the idea that they had once dating almost nauseating.

"Thanks mom," Noah groans sarcastically, justifying Santana's perfectly valid argument as a means to finally push himself upright, wrapping his sheets tightly about his bare body, suddenly very self conscious about the idea that he is wearing nothing more than a pair of old boxers, although Santana has seen before in much less.

"Just shut up and get your lazy ass out of bed." Her eyes roll about their sockets dramatically as she thrusts a handful of ibuprofen into one of his hands, and a bottle of water into the other…

Noah's eyes clear slowly. Santana is already dressed, her Cheerios uniform shining pristinely against the sunlight, hair tied back into a tight ponytail in a manner that leaves Noah deeply curious as to how much time he had left before he would be considered tardy.

"What time is it?" He groans, rubbing a large palm across his buzzed head as he pops two of the pills into his mouth before draining the entirety of his water in one sip… Still, his mouth feels like a barren desert; the lingering taste of stale alcohol and dry mouth mixing harshly against his pleated tongue… He pretends that there is relief, simply so that he can motivate himself enough to carry on.

"You have twenty minutes before I'm leaving." Santana shuffles towards the door, turning into the hallway in an effort to provide the boy with a sense of privacy. Her hips swing dramatically in a manner that – experience has taught Noah – she always does when she is annoyed. "So hurry up! I made breakfast."

Noah rolls over sideways, moving as slowly as humanly possible as if to keep the churning inside of his stomach to a bare minimum. He slides onto his feet, tired joints creaking as he stretches them to his full capacity, fingertips just grazing across the smooth ceiling before he follows Santana's lead into the hall.

Noah multitasks with a hint of expertise, stepping into a fresh pair of jeans as he sidles into the bathroom with every intention to make quick of his pit stop… Notorious for his previous ability to spend hours inside of the small room every morning in preparation for his daily debut into the halls of McKinley High, Noah has since noted that his rituals were not nearly as much fun without an annoyed Rachel pounding away at the other side of the door, insisting for her brother to allow her an opportunity to use the bathroom as well.

Besides, now that he had ridded himself of his mohawk his daily routine had since eased dramatically.

Throwing a t-shirt over his head as he moves, Noah somehow manages to make his way down the stairs, finding success in the idea that he's managed to remain upright the entire time… He walks automatically towards the kitchen, his nose instinctively following the aroma of anything capable of filling his stomach in an effort to replace the alcohol that still swelters inside of it.

Making himself comfortable against the doorway, his lingering nausea forcing him to move as slowly as humanly possible, Noah watches as Santana flutters with rhythmically synchronized motions about the small room, shuffling plates and pans filled with food in a manner that is so unusually domestic for Santana, that Noah can't help but to stare.

"What are you doing?" She jumps at the mere sound of his voice, damn near dropping an entire frying pan filled to the brim with scrambled eggs in the process.

"Cooking," Santana regains her ground quickly although she is clearly frustrated towards the idea that Noah's initial comments were not an expression of gratitude towards the idea that she had voluntarily chosen to slave over a full course meal simply for his benefit. "What does it look like?"

"You don't cook…" Noah comments on the obvious, his eyebrows arching suspiciously amidst his confusion…

Noah has never seen Santana cook so much as a slice of toast a day in her life… The fact of the matter is that housework labor these days, was a task lead solely by his aunt… Krista is the one that had displaced herself from Detroit into their guest bedroom in Lima simply to mediate in a time of crisis. She is the one that slaved over her tedious work during the latest hours of the night simply to ensure that they were all taken care of during the day. She is the one that moved like a ghost about the Corcoran home, barely seen, yet simultaneously ensuring that they were fed and well slept; that they had remembered to make their lesson plans and do their homework…

His Aunt Krista doubles as a reminder for him to keep on breathing most days… But then again, Santana has begun to take a very similar role in his life as of late.

"Yeah well I do today," She throws out his confusion casually, "On the menu today, we have enough carbohydrates to carry you through tonight's football game, and just enough grease to get you through a school day without anybody figuring out just how hungover you really are."

"Where is everybody?" Santana still hasn't addressed Noah's initial inquiries as to why she is the one that is taking care of him in the first place, doting over his every need, stepping in as the one to remind him to do something other than worry for a change…

"They're all at the hospital with Rachel." Santana swallows nervously in her response. Noah stiffens with the realization as to why Santana had been so adamant about holding off her explanation in the first place… Because she knew that she didn't have any good news to tell him. "Shelby called this morning. She told me to tell you that Rachel is still the same as yesterday. The nurse mentioned that they do have the results from all of the tests that they took last night, but that she's still waiting to hear from the doctor… She also mentioned that Rachel really wants to see you before your game tonight, so try not to look too hungover when you go over there, okay?"

"Thanks," He grumbles in his appreciation towards the relaying of his mother's message, force feeding himself more than he knows that he can handle at the moment, simply because he knows that Santana is right; he needs to be at his very best if he is going to make face in front of Rachel and his mother. "For everything, I mean…"

"I'm moving out."

It isn't exactly the response that he is expecting… Santana foolishly waits until Noah has finally managed his first forkful of eggs to deliver her seemingly random announcement. He chokes only slightly, swallowing against the intrusive bolus of food before raising his head to meet her strategically lowered eyes.

"What?" Noah stutters stupidly… The more that he thinks about it, the more he can only assume that this day would have had to come eventually… But the more he thinks of Santana as simply being another part of his family, the more he understands that the loss of her presence around here would not only be detrimental to the ease by which he flows through his day to day life these days, but to his already teetering emotional capacity as well.

"My mother… I got a phone call from her yesterday," Santana shrugs, her face glowing red in her explanation as if embarrassed to admit her desire to leave them for her own family… Noah wants to reach out and hold her in his support, he wants to tell her that she has nothing to be ashamed about, but he can't seem to find the strength. "She didn't say very much… just apologized for kicking me out. She asked me to move back in with her and my dad."

"Are you sure that that's such a good idea?" Noah is understandably skeptical. Forget the idea that he has grown to genuinely enjoy Santana's company around here, living with her parents had let her down in dramatic fashion before… Noah is not so sure that she could survive it happening again.

"It's time for me to go home, Noah." She nods confidently against his uncertainties, slanting her head upwards in a small smile, forcing their eyes together, "I need my family right now… You know how that goes."

"Yeah," He nods gently; he understands this concept, of course he does but that doesn't mean that – in terms of Santana's case – that he has to like it. "Yeah, I guess."

"Speaking of family, I heard that you and Finn got into a fight last night…" Santana segues flawlessly into her expertise of confrontation… She barely gives Noah any time to process her last bout of surprising information before she is shocking him with the true extent of her knowledge once more, "Well, actually I heard that you punched Finn in the face and then stormed out of the party."

"How did you hear that?" He raises an eyebrow, curious as to what the source of her knowledge is, "You weren't even there."

"I may not be the most popular girl at William McKinley anymore, but that doesn't mean that I don't still hear everything that goes on." She reminds him of what deep down, he already knows…

His mouth dips open; the silent inquiry as to who her direct sources are never reaching past his tongue in his sudden flashback of Quinn Fabray dropping both him as well as the incapacitated Brittney S. Pierce off at the otherwise empty Corcoran house last night… Either of them could have given Santana the answers that she so desired, although the idea that Brittney had been passed out in the back of Quinn's car at the time of the fight, narrows the possibilities down to a single, distinct person.

"He tried to… he was… he took advantage of Rachel, alright?" Noah struggles to find the appropriate words to defend his actions.

"Is that what you're calling it?" A smile appears across Santana's face as if to taunt him, amused to be watching Noah's inner turmoil… The boy instinctually straightens his back defensively, disappointment laced upon his face towards the idea that the one person that is supposed to be on his side the most out of any of them, was suddenly abandoning his reasoning.

"What the hell else am I supposed to call it?" Noah asks her, his voice elevating with the sheer volume of his increasing anger, "She was tired and she was sick and vulnerable when it happened, and Finn is too much of an idiot to figure out that a date that begins in the oncology ward of a hospital should never end in sex."

"Whatever, they didn't actually _do it_, Noah… Finn and Rachel fooling around, it was bound to happen eventually." Santana's eyes soften the second that she notices just how terribly Noah is taking the situation as a whole, "Trust me, not only is my gaydar spot on, I can also sense sexual tension from about a mile away. I've known that your sister and Finn were going to hook up ever since we were freshman."

"Ew, Rachel was in like seventh grade when we were freshman…" The boy groans, "Come on Santana, I'm having a tough enough time keeping my food down as it is. You know, you're supposed to be on my side here."

"Relax Corcoran, it's not like there are actual sides." Santana waves off Noah's overdramatic tendencies in the reminder that Noah can be just as much as a diva as his mother and sister when he truly wants to be, "Rachel is just having a tough time right now, that's all… So she's trying out a few new things, trying to get a few new experiences off of her chest while she still can. Her and Finn were nothing more than an experiment. Trust me, Frankenteen and your midget sister have absolutely no chemistry whatsoever."

"Just because you think that it was inevitable, doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it." Noah informs her through a huff of stubborn determination… He has taken to his own devices so much that he doesn't even notice Santana staring at him as if he has gone absolutely crazy.

"And just because you're obnoxiously overprotective doesn't mean that you have to get in a fist fight with every boy that so much as looks at Rachel." They bicker like siblings… Noah finds a pang lingering deep down inside of his already instable stomach towards just how much he will miss this when she is gone; her advice, her support, her honesty… He almost forgets that he is supposed to be upset. "Don't push them away right now Noah. Rachel needs you. And Finn will never admit it, but he does too."

Noah nods curtly, but his stone set jaw and lingering silence is indicative of the idea that he is pushing himself away already…

"Now will you please hurry up already," She pushes him away from the trap of self pity, attempting to rush him with the sweeping motion of her hands, hinting for him to get a move on before they are even later than what they already were. "We have to leave."

"You know, I'm gonna miss your daily psychotherapy advice sessions." He lags in his way up to his feet despite Santana's insistencies, wondering whether or not his admission will come as a surprise to the girl that Noah has been turning to left and right for advice ever since that day in the woods… She had become his primary and often sole source of human contact in his break from reality.

In lament terms, Noah Corcoran had fallen in but a mere matter of weeks, from the top of the totem pole to a self inflicted isolation of loneliness.

"Don't be so overdramatic," Santana merely waves off his attempts towards being sentimental.

"Besides, just because I'm moving out doesn't mean that I still won't be living right down the street."

* * *

><p>At the hospital, Noah has to put up a fight simply for an opportunity to see his sister.<p>

His first period study hall ensuring an easy escape in lieu of a frantic phone call from his mother informing him that Rachel was being moved into intensive care, he arrives with little information apart from the idea that their small family is being left entirely in the dark regarding what is crawling beneath the skin of their youngest member.

The only thing that Noah does seem to know is that whatever it is, it is apparently bad enough to warrant a stay in the medical ICU.

Noah has never driven so fast in his entire life.

Parents only; it is the order that he is met with the exact moment of his arrival outside of the determinedly closed, automatic double doors that separate the average pediatric cases from the grave ones…

Noah can't seem to decide which group this will benefit more.

"But she's my sister!" His voice elevates rapidly. The scene that is lingering is enough to warrant a visit from security; the burley rent-a-cop citing Noah's disturbance of grieving parents as their heads pop into the hallway from multitudes of various hospital room doors; tired, bloodshot eyes glaring beadily towards whoever dare bother their ailing child. ..

When his own mother finally befalls amongst that group – as Noah had known, she inevitably would – her eyes slant with an immediate embarrassment. Noah can see her cheeks shine red from opposite ends of the hall as she shuffles hurriedly towards the small, bickering group that is growing steadily louder with each passing moment.

"What's going on?" The mother places her hands firmly against her hips with a threatening undertone that Noah knows well enough to be silenced immediately… The nurse standing before them on the other hand, isn't as experienced as Noah; she clicks her tongue impatiently, clearly frustrated towards the necessity to repeat such a seemingly obvious concept.

"Mrs. Corcoran, it is our hospital's policy that only parents are permitted inside of the intensive care unit."

"You can't be serious…" Shelby's eyebrows raise in her disappointment towards such a ridiculous, pointless rule; unable to comprehend why it cannot extend into immediate family, especially the only immediate family that Rachel has. "Noah is Rachel's brother, they are the closest siblings that you'll ever meet, they-"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Corcoran, but…"

"No!" She takes back control of her own words, silencing the woman with a single, threatening finger that Shelby thrusts into the slightly shorter woman's face. Noah struggles to suppress his smirk. "How about this; I'll start following your ridiculous guidelines when you start telling me what the hell is wrong with my daughter, and why she was even moved up to this unit in the first place."

"Come on, Noah." She grabs her son by his thick wrist, her grip surprisingly tight as she pulls him towards the direction of Rachel's room. Noah is not surprised when nobody tries to follow him.

The hallway is quiet, curious eyes since retreating back inside of solemn rooms as the temperature begins to drop in a manner that Noah can't tell is real, or simply inside of his own head… Although his mother keeps her head poised with confidence, Noah can still feel the stares of the staff as they linger across the back of his neck in a manner that makes his hairs stand on end. They process their judgments in a manner that serves as nothing but yet another reminder towards just how different this place is from the friendly, familiar oncology wing.

"Dr. McCarthy, thank God…" The only words possibly capable to jolt Noah's glare directly ahead of himself once more, is the sudden burst that escapes from beyond his mother's mouth… Noah can feel his eyes widen, pupils dilating naturally as his focus befalls upon the image of the first familiar face he's seen all day, marching forwards to meet them from the other end of the hall.

The look on the man's face is enough to scare Noah into believing that something is terribly wrong… Besides him, he can feel his mother droop, her muscles falling limp in her silent terror towards hearing nothing other than more bad news.

"Shelby, Noah…" The man nods politely, but his voice is filled with sorrow… He extends his hand outwards towards Noah in an indication for the boy to reciprocate. He cannot find it inside of himself to manage his normally firm handshake. Instead, his muscles fall to his side like limp noodles… The doctor makes no distinct comment when Noah's arm simply twitches before falling limply to his side.

"Please Colin…" His mother is begging, dismissing formalities in a manner that makes Noah cringe. This is a tactic that Shelby only dotes upon when she is truly desperate, "What is happening to my daughter? Why did you move her up here?"

"We're trying to secure her a room in endocrinology, Shelby…" Noah swallows heavily, watching the doctor's face carefully as it contorts with sadness. The answers linger on his tongue, struggling to emerge any further as he attempts to organize them in an appropriate means. Noah is practically forced to look away. "For the time being however, until we can get Rachel a little bit more stabilized, I think that intensive care may be the best place for her."

"Why…" His mother's words blanket across the fog of his brain like snow. His eyes turn inwards towards his sleeping sister from through the open observation window that leads into her room. Rachel is laying on her back, her eyes clenched in a fierce bout of pain… There is a line that Noah follows straight into the crook of her elbow; a familiar morphine drip which Rachel holds the control panel via a tiny plunger that is clenched inside of her fist.

She is asleep but her thumb pushes down instinctively against it every so often anyway.

"Rachel is in kidney failure." He is blunt, straightforward and to the point, ultimately deciding that sugarcoating to a family all too familiar with tragedy would not be beneficial in the slightest.

Neither Shelby nor Noah manages a response. It is an answer that they are expecting, although to actually hear it renders them frozen inside of an impossible state of silence.

"We moved her into intensive care in an effort to monitor her progress a little more carefully, but at this point there is no other option than to start her on dialysis…" The man breathes through the tiny details. Familiarity allows him to understand that it is in both Shelby's, as well as Noah's personalities to want nothing beyond immediate answers. The time for questions will be later. "The likelihood of a transplant becoming necessary at this point is very near one hundred percent. In Rachel's case, in her sensitive state and vulnerability to infection thanks to the chemotherapy, dialysis will not be a permanent option. It will not even be a long term option."

"I don't understand how something like this can just… happen." Shelby is pleading in her desperation; tears well across her eyes as she attempts to reason with herself that it is simply not possible that her daughter truly is dying. "We were just with her and she seemed fine, she was taking to her treatments well, she was ahead of schedule for God's sake!"

"I know that this is difficult Shelby," He speaks as if he has a clue. Noah places his hands strategically inside of his pockets in an effort to prevent himself from blurting what he doesn't mean in a flash of anger towards the world itself, "But oftentimes with patients such as Rachel, the beginning stages of kidney failure are discrete. She is going to appear perfectly fine at first until one day, she just isn't… She's been showing symptoms of renal failure since August, Shelby. And yes, at the time they weren't concerning, and yes, the chemotherapy most likely exacerbated a problem that went overlooked, but if we continue to do nothing, these lucid moments that Rachel is experiencing will gradually disappear. She will grow sicker and more lethargic with each passing day, her pain will progress exponentially until one day she will go to sleep, and she will not wake up."

Noah forces himself to ignore the choking sob that emits from the base of his mother's throat. He forces himself to consider his sister, the girl that had never asked for a single thing a day in her life, the girl who had failed to receive the gift that she truly deserved - the world itself - only to get nothing more than a falling sky instead.

Now, Noah can only hope that the only thing that Rachel had ever truly needed was nothing beyond a clear, open place to fly.

"So if she doesn't get the transplant…" Shelby's voice fades with the question that she struggles to emit from her mouth. Noah is certain that she already knows the answer, just as he does… She simply needs to hear the doctor actually say it in order to believe it.

"Then her kidneys will become utterly useless," His answer is honest. From Noah's perspective, this somehow makes the experience slightly less painful… He is not certain however, that the same can be said for his mother, "The toxicity levels will eventually build up inside of her body, and since Rachel's immune system will already be weakened from her continued chemotherapy treatments, an infection from the dialysis after a little while will be imminent. Very quickly, these infections will combine and take hold throughout her body. They will enter into her body and ultimately it will lead to sepsis. Once this occurs, systematic organ failure will very soon follow, and not long after that, death… Shelby, I need to make it very clear to you that at the first signs of sepsis, there will be nothing left for us to do other than to make Rachel comfortable."

Shelby closes her eyes against the information; her head shaking slightly as her joints begin to tremble beneath the pressure of her sorrow… It is a song and dance that they have all heard before – Rachel standing on the mere threads of death itself.

She has beaten the odds before; now, Noah can only pray that Rachel has not already used up her miracle.

"How long?" Shelby's lower lip trembles as a blunt pain builds inside of her chest with every question that she asks that she knows she will not be able to tolerate the answer to.

"It's hard to say," He nods understandingly, "With dialysis, it can be anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of weeks…"

"Wow…" Noah breathes softly without even particularly meaning to, emitting the first words that he has spoken since the doctor has made his presence known as if unable to comprehend the idea that his sister, so physically present now, could become nothing more than a mere memory within a few short weeks… He can feel as two additional pairs of eyes turn to stare at him; his mother, as well as his sister's doctor gluing empathetic expressions straight through his very body as he stares ahead, determinedly fixated on a small stain on the wall before him.

"Noah…" Noah has known Colin McCarthy practically his entire life. The man that might as well be the fourth member of their family by now reaches over towards the boy and places a firm hand against his shoulder. He squeezes firmly, yet his touch is surprisingly gentle at the same time. "Are you okay?"

He makes the motion to nod absently, but suddenly, the thoughts that are running through his mind make this impossible… He wonders whether or not Rachel will be in any pain when _it_ happens. He wonders if the ending that they have been fearing since his childhood will ultimately, in the end, become a reality for them all.

Mostly he just wonders if she will even know what is happening at all… when that time comes; whether there will be a golden light shrouding her with warmth and comfort, or nothing but an infinite darkness.

"I don't want her to be in any pain…" He feels his mother tense besides him at his words. Noah pretends to ignore it, concentrating solely on the fact that the doctor that is standing before him doesn't so much as skip a beat.

"She won't be." He promises. "I can make sure of that much, okay?"

Noah's eyes raise slightly. They're impossibly dark, a typical hazel reduced to blackness as his iris' cloud with a lingering fear that no words, no comfort can possibly erase. "Thank you."

The man nods. It's the quietest of motions, indicative in that it ends the conversation almost immediately. The length of their brief interaction doesn't minimize the effect. There is simply more important business to be had.

"Time isn't exactly on our side, Shelby…" He provides them with the information that the Corcoran family knows better than anybody else inside of this hospital, "We need to start looking for matches and we need to start looking fast. This means getting Rachel on the transplant list as quickly as humanly possible."

"I'll do it." Noah doesn't hesitate. He doesn't even consider the implications of his own words as he broadens his chest with a confidence that not even he is entirely certain that he feels right about now, "I gave Rachel my bone marrow when we were kids I have to be a match for a kidney too, right?"

"It's a good start, but Noah, you know as well as I do that a lot of things can change in twelve years." The man raises his hands in a gesture that indicates for Noah to slow down, that they weren't quite ready to put him on the operating table just yet, although he was halfway to walking there himself. "There are a lot of tests that we still have to run and little time to do it."

"Fine," Noah shakes his head as if this is nothing more than a brief setback to the inevitable. A part of him can't help but to wonder why they will even bother prolonging it when time will prove nothing but detrimental to Rachel's health. "Where do I sign up?"

"We can run your labs right now." The doctor motions with his hand for Noah to follow him, but with the options presented and open, Noah finds himself suddenly hesitant. He turns towards Shelby, more afraid now than ever before to leave her alone.

The woman has tears in her eyes, but Noah can tell that she is attempting to contain them to her very best of efforts for the sake of her son as she nods her head in order to indicate that she will be okay by herself. He doesn't believe her for one second.

"Thank you, Noah…" Shelby murmurs, wrapping her arms tightly around the back of his neck. She pulls him in closely towards her in a manner that Shelby hasn't done in years. He's eighteen. Noah is eighteen years old and he has been larger than his mother since middle school but still, he finds an undeniable comfort towards being inside of her arms as he attempts to absorb all of the regret that he can practically feel seeping through her veins towards the idea that she has not passed her own blood type along to either of her children.

That she cannot be the one to save Rachel.

"You don't have to thank me." Noah makes the promise that he views not as an option, but as a requirement; a responsibility that Noah had been signed up for the second that he became the big brother, the man of the house.

Noah practically forces himself from his mother. His hands linger briefly against her shoulders, gripping them for but a handful of extra seconds in an effort to instill an additional sense of support before he disappears without so much as another word…

He turns back only once; his eyes lingering behind him as he moves forward, neck turned almost painfully as he watches his mother slip silently back inside of Rachel's room… She breathes deeply, wiping her eyes as she moves in an effort to project nothing but positivity despite the fact that her heart is currently screaming.

* * *

><p>His mother only bites her nails when she is truly nervous.<p>

As it is, she has been hacking away at her poor, defenseless fingers for nearly half an hour. Noah watches from across the room as her eyes dart nervously back and forth across Rachel's sleeping form, spinning circles against her skull in a manner that leaves Noah worried that the motions are going to give him a damn seizure simply just for staring.

"Mom?" He is so close to telling Shelby to relax that for a second he mistakes even his sister's quiet, high pitched tone as his own… That is until the beckoning has Shelby jumping so quickly to her feet that she damn near rips her thumbnail off with her own teeth.

Noah doubts that she would have even noticed if she did.

"What is it honey?" Shelby hovers dangerously close above Rachel's head as if she has forgotten that it is not the girl's eyes that are failing her but her kidneys… As if any of them could ever forget.

"I don't feel well…" Rachel mutters what seems obvious, but Noah does not really blame her much.

"I know you don't sweetheart, I'm so sorry…" Shelby's voice dips in a genuine apology, begging for Rachel's forgiveness towards the idea that Shelby herself is simply not able to take all of this pain away from her daughter as Noah knows, she would do for either of them in a heartbeat, should only she have been granted such power.

"I feel… mushy." Rachel considers her words carefully, leaving Shelby smirking gently as she wipes a hand across the top of her daughter's bald head… The only thing that Noah can deduce from his sister's describing her feelings as being _mushy_ is that the morphine has once again, seeped in through every crack and crevice of Rachel's body, taking over in a manner that Noah can only hope does not end with her accidentally giving away details of her sex-cipades with Finn to him once more.

"Mushy?" Shelby asks her to clarify with a short laugh that Noah embraces for everything that it is worth; even if it is emitted from behind impossibly sad eyes.

"I don't want to be sick anymore." Noah attempts to envision exactly what it is that Rachel is feeling, but he struggles to come up with an accurate depiction; the cloud filtering across her brain, blocking out even the clearest of thought processes inside of a thick fog that she has to fight tooth and nail through simply to produce a single, tangible idea… Noah can physically see his sister fighting the haze; her eyes spinning with effort as their mother tenses above her, eyeing her daughter carefully as she pauses in her struggle to come up with some sort of response to the impossible.

"I know you don't, sweetheart," She finally breaths after an extended pause but her voice is distant; she sounds unsure of even herself. "It's okay though. It's all going to go away really soon."

"I don't think so…" Rachel's voice shakes. For a second, Noah believes that she is actually crying. When he doesn't find so much as a hint of a tear upon her face, Noah finds that it is much easier to conclude that he had simply made the whole thing up. "My kidneys are failing, aren't they?"

The room silences in a tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Noah and Shelby's eyes deadlock; identical orbs narrowing with the concern that Rachel is seemingly not as oblivious to the world as either had initially thought…

Or hoped.

"Honey, the doctors are just running a few tests right now, they…"

"You don't have to lie to me mom." Rachel cuts off her mother's attempt to euphemize what all three people inside of this room already know to be true, "I know. I've known for days now… I'm sorry that I didn't mention it sooner."

"Don't be sorry Rachel." Shelby shakes off Rachel's unwarranted apology immediately, but still, her voice can't help but to choke with Rachel's unsuspecting revelation. _It wouldn't have made a difference_. Noah is repeating the sentiment that Rachel telling the truth about how she had been feeling days ago would not have made her any less sick than she is right now, just as he knows his mother is. They cannot focus on the past, on the what-if's, not when they're still so hopelessly stuck in the present that anything else would positively kill them. It is an effort that is futile to say the least. "We're going to fix this. The doctors are going to make you better again, alright?"

"Is Noah here?" Rachel glistens across the topic; Noah pretends that he does not see her slight headshake in response to her mother's encouragement. "He told me that he was gonna try and stop by this morning."

Noah takes his cue as directed, rising so quickly up and onto his feet that his head spins. He fights through the pain, pushing himself across the vast room, pushing himself to be the big brother that his sister needs him to be right about now.

"Yeah Rach," Noah produces his answer before Shelby so much as has the opportunity to open her mouth. "I'm right here."

"I wanted to go to your football game tonight… I was _supposed_ to go." This time, when Rachel's voice falters there is absolutely no mistaking the tears that are inside of her voice; and now, inside of her eyes as well. She is disappointed. She's so disappointed about getting sick that Noah is starting to wonder whether or not she believes it to be her fault at all. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"It's okay Rachel," Noah makes the assurance quickly attempting to hush his sister's racing thoughts before her guilt can seep any further. "It'll be on TV anyway, and besides, I'll be here giving you a play by play the second that I get out."

"I wanna see the trophy that you get after you win." Rachel manages a smile, lifting her hands to rub feebly at her eyes… They're barely open half way in her exhaustion, and the part that Noah can actually see is bubbled over with the beginnings of fresh tears… Rachel wipes them away with her clenched fists, but she has already been caught.

"I'll get it to you," He promises, "Trust me Rach, I don't care if I have to rip it out of the hands of the damn President himself. You'll be the first to see it."

"It's highly unlikely that you'll have to do that, Noah." Rachel smirks; her eyes are squeezed closed in her pain, but she still finds it inside of herself to be a smartass.

"It was supposed to be a simile…" He shakes his head in his surprise towards his sister's response, but he is much too pleased to see his sister acting herself again to be upset.

"Like or as," This time when Rachel speaks, Noah is genuinely confused regarding what the hell it is that she is trying to say.

"You've been pressing too hard at that morphine pump of yours, Rachel." Noah makes a mental note to tell the nurses to cool it with the leverage that they give Rachel in terms of the drug department next time he sees them… Just because they love Rachel it doesn't mean that they have to drug her to the point that she's speaking in gibberish.

"You have to use the words like or as in order for it to be a simile." Rachel explains herself through a slow, steady breath leaving Noah shaking his head in his wonderment… Rachel was a smart kid. His sister is so damn smart and Noah can't help but to think how much of a shame that it was that her short life had already been threatened time and time again when he – the damn moron of the family – walked around freely to fuck up his life at his own will… "That was more of a metaphor."

"Whatever." Noah pretends to be unfazed but he swallows through the response anyway.

"At least you'll have grandma and grandpa there," Rachel drifts back towards the subject of the football game that she has been so obsessed with for months now already, "And Aunt Krista… and mom." Her mentioning of their mother's attendance is casual, as though Rachel actually believes that there is a prayers chance that Shelby would ever leave the hospital for something so petty – in comparison – as football.

"Rachel I'm not leaving you here by yourself tonight…" Shelby breathes gently, hoping that Rachel's passing comment was simply a mere error in judgment as punctuated by drugs and disease; that Shelby's reminder differently, will serve as enough a reminder to allow Rachel to retract her statement.

Deep down, they both know Rachel well enough to know that this will never happen.

"You have to go!" Her insistence is immediate and demanding and this time, Rachel manages to force her eyes completely open… They are wide, pleading, desperate… "It's Noah's last football game!"

"Rachel…" Shelby tries to warn the girl not to push her on this; that she isn't in the mood for it. She attempts to quietly inform Rachel that the argument is not one that is up for debate while simultaneously attempting to not sound too harsh on her child, stuck in a hospital bed projecting her wishes from within the ICU.

"What are you gonna do instead sit here and watch me sleep?" Rachel has a point. Noah watches as Shelby's lips purse inwards in a manner that allows Noah to understand that she knows this fact as well. "You need to take a break mom. You're gonna kill yourself worrying about me."

"How about you let me do all of the worrying around here…" Shelby plays the classic _mother_ card; the conclusive argument having since become one of her favorites throughout the singlehanded raising of her young, and oftentimes rebellious children.

But Shelby's leeway does not rival that by which Rachel has, they all know this. The most that Shelby can do now is to hold on strong and wait out the fight until Rachel tires to the point that she falls right back inside of her drug induced sleep, waking up not remembering what it was the family had been previously fighting about.

"Because if I leave you to do all of the worrying, then it's going to be you sitting inside of the ICU next." Rachel struggles in the midst of her argument, to pull herself into a seated position against her flat bed… Noah is just impressed that she manages to make it up and onto her elbows before she falls back down once more… But the implications are more than enough; Rachel is determined and there is absolutely nothing in the entirety of this world that is scarier than a determined Rachel Corcoran, "Your fingers are bleeding, by the way."

It is a low blow, a punch below the belt but it gives Rachel that little extra push that she needs; a quick glimpse of her mother's fingernails, chewed to the quick telling her everything that she needs to know. Rachel knows as much as Noah does, the manifestations of her mother's nervous habits.

"Rachel this is not up for discussion." Shelby throws away Rachel's argument as if it has absolutely no validation when the reality of it is that all three of them know just how much it does. Noah can't help but to notice Shelby's haste in jamming her hands inside of her pockets as she speaks.

"Why not, I'm the one that has to sit here with you when you're a nervous wreck. I should at least have a say…" The manner that Shelby silences allows Rachel to know that she has won before Shelby can so much as say it. When Rachel picks an argument that she knows – without a reasonable doubt – that she is right about, it is simply impossible for anybody to win it; even Shelby.

"Fine," Shelby's face glows bright red as she concedes so that Noah can tell how much of a difficult task it is for her to pull out that one single, punctuated syllable. "I'll go. But I'm coming right back after."

"Of course you are." Rachel nods in her satisfaction. She isn't trying to get rid of Shelby for the entire night, just the couple of hours that the two of them so desperately need away from each other.

"Speaking of getting out of here, Noah you should get a move on." Shelby strategically does not give Rachel an opportunity to gloat upon her victory, as if she would have ever done so anyway… She turns towards her won, nodding to him so that for a second or two, Noah thinks that Shelby is actually kicking him out of embarrassment towards allowing her daughter to get the upper hand over her. The second that he catches a glimpse of the overhead clock however, he deduces the truth; that he only has about fifteen minutes left to get to class before he receives a tardy that he simply cannot afford today. "You don't wanna miss any classes today, especially a class like algebra."

"How do you know my schedule?" Noah raises his eyebrows suspiciously towards his mother's almost creepy knowledge of absolutely everything about his life.

"Because I'm your mother," She waves off his desire for an explanation with an answer that seems to have been obvious all along, "I know everything."

"Yeah, alright," Noah shrugs satisfied, understanding that he will not be receiving an answer any more detailed than this from his mom, "I guess that I'll see you guys a little bit later… The game starts at 8:10 mom, don't forget."

"I won't," Shelby promises, signaling for her son to approach her. He follows her orders obediently, allowing his mother to wrap him up inside of a comfortable embrace within her arms as she has been so prone to doing lately alongside the reminder of just how badly the necessity to keep her children close to her truly was, "I'll see you later."

"Bye Rach," He pulls away from his mother, offering Rachel the tiniest of waves in his departure.

"Bye Noah," Rachel offers the return but her voice has fallen feeble. She's exhausted from all of the effort that her argument with Shelby had required; as simply as it may have seemed, "Good luck tonight… Even though I know that you won't need it."

"Yeah…" Noah sighs quickly, the idea that Rachel will not be around to watch him play tonight hitting him with a hard, sudden force that strikes him full swing alongside the pang of regret towards the acknowledgment that while he is flying freely across the field that he was destined for, Rachel would be stuck here waiting while in the basement just below her feet, a team of specialists test his own blood to determine whether or not it will be safe to take his kidney out of his own body, and place it inside of hers.

Noah isn't stupid enough to believe that Shelby's lack of mentioning this detail was an accident.

He turns out of her room, allows himself to disappear inside of the hallway. Immediately, he finds himself using the gradual fading of the image of his mother and sister from behind his back as a forceful means of imagining what it might actually be like should Rachel not survive.

He doesn't want to do it. Lord knows that Noah is the last person on the face of this Earth with the exception of maybe Shelby, who wants to admit that the cold hard truth is that things simply are not looking too great for their little family here.

Noah's theory; his ultimate defense towards his actions rests within the idea that if can just spend the time that he is away from his sister pretending that she is gone in her entirety that one day, if and when it does truly happen, he will be ready.

His attempts prove to be harder than even he'd initially thought. By the time Noah reaches the parking garage, he is practically in tears, rushing towards his car, rushing for escape, rushing for a place to hide… He ducks inside of the driver's seat knowing full well that should the time come that he actually has to give her away, he won't be able to do it.

To hell with heaven, he professes violently, throwing his car into drive with the force of a sudden fit of rage towards the unfairness of it all.

She is here for now and that is all that Noah will ever truly need.

* * *

><p>There is a certain silence that comes with an empty locker room that attracts Noah's interest even more than the thundering roar stereotypical of football.<p>

Contraire to popular belief, Noah enjoys a quiet stadium even more than he enjoys a loud one.

He breathes steadily; deep, rhythmic motions into his lungs and right back out again as his cleated feet tap repetitively against the hard tile floor of the locker room alongside the music that blasts into his ears through a pair of noise canceling headphones.

His teammates surround him, but Noah would never be able to tell. In his head, Noah is all alone.

He picks incessantly at the bandage taped inside of the crook of his elbow; a cotton ball secured with a long strand of medical tape against the joint that Dr. McCarthy had drawn blood from earlier; the smallest of vials capable of providing the largest of answers.

Ripping the tape quickly from his skin with one single, sweeping motion, Noah ignores the small, lingering pain that accompanies his taking a handful of arm hairs along with it. A blotch a dried blood stains the center of the cotton swab the color of iodine. Noah finds himself entranced. He pretends that he can see the results from the outside, as clearly as the researchers working inside of the laboratory will see them. He pretends that he knows the ultimate truth to detract from the idea that he knows absolutely nothing at all.

Discarding the small bandage into his bag, Noah turns his attention back onto the music, his toes tapping continuously with a nervous energy as he pretends that he does not notice Finn staring at him from across the locker room.

The two haven't spoken since Noah had hit him. From Noah's understanding of things, Rachel and Finn haven't spoken much since either… He pretends not to be overjoyed with the reminder that he had had a hard enough time being allowed admission into intensive care and he was Rachel's brother… As long as she is there, her and Finn would remain satisfyingly separated; a positive note to an otherwise sour situation.

Noah tries to forget the idea that him and Finn are the dream team that is supposed to be carrying the Titans to a championship title in a matter of minutes.

Trying to shake all of the negatives from his head, Noah attempts to concentrate on the task in front of him, the only thing that truly matters; the family that is seated directly outside – his grandparents, his aunt and his mother, who despite a last minute attempt to back out of the deal that she had made with Rachel earlier that afternoon, was all but forced from the hospital by her daughter in the end.

Noah drums his hands gently against the padded white uniform pants that he adorns. His mind races, lingering heavily on his sister's stark absence inside of the stands tonight; only the second of his football games that she had ever missed, his semifinal tournament being the first.

His mouth teeters upwards with the reminder of his sister's surprising adherence towards the brutal sport, so opposite of her gentle personality, so different from everything that Rachel has ever stood for… She pretends to be appalled by the barbarism of the sport, but the truth is that Noah would pick Rachel over half of his teammates in terms of her knowledge of the game… Hell, she had even once proclaimed to Shelby that she herself wanted to play football…

Rachel had been in the second or third grade at the time and the truth was that she didn't want to play football at all; her miniscule size alongside the idea that the schedule interfered directly with her rigorous dance repertoire as well as those Junior Broadway classes that their mother had signed her up for until Rachel got tired enough of existing in the shadows of her mother's former career that to quit by middle school ensured that.

Noah had told her that she was too girly for football. That the equipment would be five times too big for her, that she wouldn't even be able to see out of her helmet… He had been right, of course but after a large screaming fit that she had put up against Shelby's insistencies that her pint sized daughter would not be playing football, the mother had given in.

But Shelby had seen the exact same thing that Noah had… Rachel hadn't wanted to _play_ football at all, not nearly as badly as she simply wanted an excuse to be around her older brother just a little bit more… At the time, Rachel had been young enough to associate the two as going hand and hand, and in the end, Rachel had insisted so defiantly that despite her better judgments, Shelby simply could not refuse.

Rachel had lasted about five minutes into the first practice.

"Get ready boys. It looks like the damn Super Bowl out there." Noah identifies his coach's presence before the short, stout man actually speaks… Ken Tanaka is beaming. He wears a confident smile that stretches from ear to ear, and has Noah silently begging to channel this energy as well… He knows that he cannot afford to be anything but certain these days.

"Stay inside of yourselves tonight, gentlemen…" His coach opens himself amidst the center of the crowd, watching as his teammates bob their heads up and down rhythmically, "Tonight we can beat just about anything."

A roar of approval erupts across the cramped room; fifty teenage boys jumping onto their feet in a rush of motivated energy, clasping their helmets firmly around their head and chanting amidst the guaranteed victory that Coach Tanaka had promised for them in his stereotypically short speech… The large group filters slowly towards the locker room's exit, the traditional practice of captains taking the back making Noah cringe with the idea of standing side by side next to Finn… He wonders how it is that he is supposed to run behind the boy when he can't so much as stand the thought of looking at him.

"Noah, can I talk to you for a minute?" His coach saves him the trouble for the time being, pulling him to the side at just the last second just as the last of his teammates disappear outside and onto the field.

"People are expecting quite a lot from you tonight." Noah raises an eyebrow, hoping that his coach will not see the confused motion through the barrier of his helmet… He is not entirely certain what it is that Ken Tanaka is trying to get at as the man adjusts the Titans cap atop his head only briefly before taking a deep breath that propels him forward. "I know that those expectations go quite beyond the realm of football, but tonight I have no trouble at all seeing you playing the game of your life. People are expecting quite a lot from you tonight son, but I want you to expect to win."

"Yes sir," Noah nods through his insistencies that he will be doing nothing less than his absolute best.

"There will be other colleges out there besides Notre Dame." Noah swallows nervously. He is not entirely certain where it is that this conversation is going, but he is certain that he does not particularly like it. "Maybe they won't be quite as big, and maybe they won't be quite as famous, but they will be there. Tonight is your opportunity…"

"Don't look back Noah. Tonight is your chance. You deserve this."

* * *

><p>"The two best teams in the state of Ohio are out here tonight folks, but only one will leave with a championship crown."<p>

The first thing that Noah does upon stepping out onto the field is roll his eyes towards the obvious reporting; amateur announcers making him cringe as he aligns himself for the opening series, opening his stance directly behind Finn at his own forty yard line, trying desperately to ignore the desire to kick the boy in the back of the head while he is here.

"The Titans open up with the first offensive rush of the game. Hudson takes the snap, feeds the ball to Puck Corcoran behind him with a beautiful handoff…" Noah feels a natural surge of comfort as the football is pressed hard into his chest. He cradles the pigskin inside of his arms and finds the voice of the man speaking into the microphone from up above actually soothing his motions as he filters across the field… Noah Corcoran is ready. He is ready to pounce, ready to run faster than he has ever run in his entire life… That is, until a swarm of defenders rush him, trapping him like a rat inside of a cage. The results seem everything but accidental. "Oh no, David Karofsky, the Titans' center misses a huge block and Puck Corcoran has absolutely nowhere to go. He is hit hard for a five yard loss."

The wind is swept straight from Noah's lungs as he feels several pairs of arms wrap tightly about his trunk in a manner that sends him stumbling immediately to the ground… The only option that he is capable of is to protect the ball nestled inside of his muscular arms. He hits the turf below him so hard that he is certain that it will leave an imprint of his own body behind.

When he finally manages to stand back up once more, David Karofsky is sneering at him. For the Noah, his sworn enemy's intentions are immediately obvious… Karofsky and his offensive line were determined to intentionally miss their blocks against the strongest defenders in the state of Ohio. They were going to try to get Noah demolished. They were going to try to get him hurt.

Clearly willing to blow this game in an effort to exact revenge, Noah is suddenly made aware of the idea that he is going to need more than a miracle to perform tonight.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Noah's frustrations team in his elevated voice as he screams towards the boy, forcing himself to back away simply so that he will not be enticed to hit him. His words are muffled through his mouth guard but still, his intentions are emitted as perfectly clear. "Are you really going to blow the state championships just because you're still pissed about getting your ass kicked?"

"We'll see, Corcoran." Karofsky throws back towards him… Noah lunges but barely makes it two steps… The second that he feels Finn's arms wrap about his chest in an effort to hold him back, he rips them away and steps back once more… He does not want Finn Hudson touching him right now.

"It looks as though there may be a bit of tension on the field between the Titans' center and running back…" Noah just wishes that the commentator would stick to speaking about the game and nothing else… The school wasn't paying him to become the next Jerry Springer… "Puck Corcoran is clearly upset about David Karofsky's missed block but the Titans are going to have to hurry or they'll end up with a Delay of Game penalty…" The whistle blows; through the corner of his eye, Noah watches as the ref tosses the yellow flag out and onto the field… The boy throws his hands in the air in frustration, the disappointed groans of the crowd correlate directly with his heart as it pounds inside of his temples… If this beginning was any indication of how the rest of the game was going to go, they might as well quit now. "And there is the whistle, Hudson can't seem to snap the ball quick enough and the clock runs out. The Titans will receive a five yard penalty."

Hands on his hips, Noah is practically stomping the five yards that his team had been penalized because of David Karofsky's incompetence. It's 2 & 20 as Noah attempts to prepare to make up for lost yardage on this crucial second down, but he knows that he is going to have to pull out some moves that not even he is entirely certain he has in order to get anything going for this team.

He thinks of his family, lined up in support just yards away in the stands. He thinks of his mother, ripped from her daughter's sick bedside just to watch him fail. He thinks of Rachel, stuck inside of intensive care able to follow his disappointing run only on a television screen; shock written clear across her face towards his dramatic crash and burn… And all at once, Noah decides that tonight, it is up to him to become a piece of absolutely everybody on this field.

"Hudson opens right; the defense blitzes right away and pushes straight through the line and down goes Hudson… Finn Hudson is sacked for an eleven yard loss and this offensive team is off to an absolutely horrendous start." Noah's wishful thinking remains just that. He doesn't even have the opportunity to touch the ball this time; he'd barely gotten off of his own two feet before he watches Finn get pummeled to the ground… And as much as he's dreamed of watching the boy writhing in pain before him earlier today, this isn't exactly what he had in mind. "Yes, the Titans are going to have to start coming up with some big blocks if they want to start anything against this ferocious Spartan attack, and Ken Tanaka would be foolish not to be concerned about this All State ranked linemen who have picked the absolute wrong time to come up completely flat."

Noah's shoulders are hunched as his offense retreats from the field thirty one yards further back from where they had started. The crowd before him falls into an absolute and painful silence. Noah can't even bring himself to look up for fear that he will be able to read the disappointment on all of their faces, most importantly his family's.

"Ray Emerson, the Spartans nationally ranked quarterback comes up to give his team the opportunity to outperform this Titans' offense, which should be easy after that last display. Emerson runs right; he shifts, looks for an opening and finds it! Emerson runs straight up the middle of the field and just like that it is seven zip Spartans…"

Noah has barely had an opportunity to walk off of the field before the roar of the crowd at the opposite end of the pitch drowns the deafening groans of the loyal Titans fans that are currently shrouding their school with red support.

To say that their situation is looking pretty bleak would be an understatement.

* * *

><p>"This is it folks, the final series of this half with the Spartans up twenty four to nothing. This Titans offense is going to have one more shot at a touchdown before the half…" Their situation from the first series has not improved as the half rapidly winds down, diminishing the hopes of the players and fans alongside it. If anything, things have only gone from bad to worse.<p>

Actually, this is not entirely true considering the idea that Noah is simply glad that the score is not one hundred to nothing by now… This is the one thing that Noah has to go on as he lines up for what will easily become the last play before halftime, before they are forced to retreat in an inevitable defeat towards a locker room surrounded by a group of disappointed fans on the outside, and a pissed off coaching staff on the in.

Needless to say, there is a pressure pushing harshly against Noah's skull towards the idea that if he did not score on this run right now, his team might as well back up their bags and go home. It would at the very least spare them some embarrassment.

"Clean snap to Hudson and Corcoran shifts out right… Puck Corcoran is wide open as Hudson drops back to pass, and we might actually have something here folks…" Noah darts with an impressive speed out towards the far right. For the first time in the entirety of the game, he actually manages to clear the defensive line and take off down the center of the field. He can practically feel the fans stand slowly to their feet, eyes wide and hands held together in prayer for him to pull of this miracle. "There is pressure on Hudson but Corcoran is wide open in the backfield… Hudson throws! And the ball is tipped… it knocks off of the fingertips of David Karofsky. The Titans center seems to have put his hands up to block at just the wrong moment and he tips the ball straight into the arms of the Spartan corner who drops off inside of the twenty five. This is just heartbreaking for these Titans folks. Touchdown Spartans as the clock winds down on the first half and these Spartans take an impressive lead, jumping ahead thirty one to nothing at the end of two."

Noah's chin sinks so far downwards that it touches his chest. His head remains poised firmly down, he has absolute no excuse to raise it and neither does the rest of his team.

"This is truly devastating folks, a Cinderella story for these William McKinley Titans ending in heartbreak as they head into the locker rooms with a look of pure defeat –"

"And it seems like the hopes of this once great season may very well end right here."

* * *

><p>He has never been inside of a room quieter than the Titans' locker room.<p>

Marching in at the back of the line, Noah's eyes immediately dart across the lowered heads of his various teammates; eyes poised determinedly towards the ground, sweat dripping from their faces as each allows his helmet to roll against the ground before them; a clear expression of their prematurely declared defeat.

None makes so much as a single sound. Hell, there is no sound to be made.

Noah searches; his eyes wander to locate the one person that he knows he can actually place the burden of some of the blame on. The second that his eyes capture the smug glance of David Karofsky, a fire ignites inside of him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Heads shoot upwards the second that the first noise to permeate across the heavy room is the sound of their own teammates screaming at each other… The seated Titans tense expectantly. The last time this had happened, it had ended with one of their teammates in the hospital and the other in jail.

His helmet clutched tightly inside of his clenched fingers, Noah keeps the safety device fastened tightly against his side simply to ensure that his emotions wouldn't leave him beating Karofsky senseless over the head with it. The slightly taller boy stands from his locker in response to the perceived threat, straightening out chest to chest against Noah, glaring into the teen's eyes as if daring Noah to challenge him.

"Why don't you wake up and get your fucking head out of your ass, Dave! Whatever issues you have with me shouldn't get in the way of us winning a damn state championship!" His face is bright red, Noah can feel the heat radiating off of his skin as he turns away from David and throws his helmet as hard as he can against his locker. The cheap metal dents inwards against the intrusion, but Noah declares it a small price to pay knowing full well that he would not have been able to control himself against using the thing as a weapon for much longer. It bangs with a resounding thud in the collision; the entirety of the room flinches in an instinctive unison as the helmet rolls over once against the floor before falling stationary. "Do you really wanna hold a grudge over here Karofsky, huh? Because no matter what happens to us tonight, at the end of the day our high school football careers are over; hell for most of us, our entire football careers are over… You know as well as I do that there's not a lot of us around here who will ever have something greater than this game."

The most miniscule of glimmers shines inside of Karofsky's eyes. Noah bites his tongue against reminding David that his reputation towards the likelihood of becoming nothing more than a deadbeat Lima Loser rivaled even his own.

The broad center is silent. His muscles relax in an indication of his lowering his guard. Noah eyes the boy carefully, as if out of disbelief towards the idea that David Karofsky is actually considering something that he has to say for a change.

"Everybody sit," Noah's back is facing towards the locker room's entranceway. He manages to turn just in time to watch the stone faced coaching staff approaching them. Their backs are hunched, hands are in their pockets. Noah cannot read a single expression upon any of their faces.

The most that the captain gets is a nervous glance from Ken Tanaka as he recognizes the uncomfortably close distance between him and Karofsky; each boy never more than ten feet apart from the other without engaging in some sort of savage argument.

Noah shakes his head once gently, silently indicating that there is no need for a fuss this time around. The two sworn enemies obey their coach's direction without hesitating, seating themselves where they stand, directly besides one another.

Noah leans forward; he rests his elbows against his knees and begins playing determinedly with his hands. He is more nervous of hearing disappointment inside of his coach's voice than anything.

"The other team has already written us off. Hell, they're already celebrating a victory." Much to Noah's surprise, he can't read Ken Tanaka's voice anymore than he had read his expression. The coach moves with a characteristic slowness, removing his head before wiping nervously at his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. "The majority of the people that are sitting outside in those stands tonight, they've written us off too. But there are always those select few, those people who will still be believing in you when you step out on that field. They do not write us off."

Noah's eyes fall to the floor; they are wide, unblinking as he begins to bob his head alongside his coach's words. He can practically make out the image of his sister holed up inside of a hospital room, biting her nails nervously as the announcer on the television before her speaks of a Spartans guaranteed victory against the pristine tile floor below him.

Suddenly, Noah wants this even more than he'd even wanted it before.

"When you play in that second half tonight, I want you to go out on that field and play for those people. Play for the people who will not give up on you. You play with them in your hearts. Every single person at this field tonight will face a battle in their lifetime that they will either win or lose. Differentiating between these outcomes takes place in how badly you want it –"

"This battle is not over gentlemen. The fight is never finished."

* * *

><p>"And the second half kicks off with the Titans on defense and if they want any chance of winning this game tonight, they're going to have to take control and they're going to have to do it right now."<p>

Noah's feet tap nervously against the turf littering the sidelines as he eyes his defense lining up at the forty yard line. He senses their already shot nerves from here; each member tense in their preparation to defend what they all know is rightfully theirs.

"Corcoran come over here, listen to me; I don't want you even looking at them!" Ken Tanaka catches Noah's nervous motions as his eyes trail upon the opposing team. The coach pulls Noah to the side, he clutches onto the boy's facemask so that Noah has no choice but push his own face closer and closer into Ken's. Noah knows what the man is doing; he knows that he is only trying to prevent the already distracting boy from trailing further from the edge. "I don't want you to even think about them. You stay inside of your own head. You think about nothing else but how this next series of yours is gonna play out."

"Emerson drops back for the pass, and he is absolutely buried by two Titans and there he goes, fumble!" Ken Tanaka breaks his own advice almost immediately. Noah finds it as an excuse to follow suite, his eyes widening with the announcement as he turns back towards the large pile of bodies packed together uncomfortably at the end of the field, "Loose ball and the refs indicate that it's the Titans ball! The Titans pick up the fumble and touchdown Titans! Mike Chang is in for the touchdown and the William McKinley Titans are finally on the board!"

The very field itself seems to liven up as the Titans celebrate their first points. Noah's teammates jump and cheer as if they had just scored the game winning touchdown, as if they were not still twenty four points behind their opponents, with time running out with each passing second.

Noah simply keeps to himself; the boy moves silently as he straps his helmet back onto his head and incorporates the helpful deep breathing exercises that he knows he will need in order to get through these next two quarters.

Noah feels as though he is keeping one eye on the clock throughout the entirety of the game. Lined up behind his quarterback, Noah finds the distraction of a former friend as nothing less than a boost in the motivation that he knows he will require in order to ensure a victory that is very rapidly becoming much more plausible than before.

One minute left in play.

"Hudson falls back to pass, Puck Corcoran is stuck in double coverage…" _Fifty nine seconds. Fifty eight seconds._ "Hudson makes a beautiful throw and he connects with Corcoran who puts on the gas… He breaks away!" _Fifty seven seconds. Fifty six seconds. Fifty five seconds._ "Corcoran only has one more man to beat, and he leaps over the safety; the last line of defense finds nothing but the wind on Puck Corcoran's heels. Corcoran has nothing but room, he runs into the end zone, touchdown Titans and just like that it is thirty one to twenty eight Spartans and the Titans are back in this game just one touchdown away from the greatest comeback in Ohio football's history!"

"Onside kick! Onside kick! Onside kick!" Ken Tanaka is red in the face as he shouts the repetitive order that the special teams unit has already deduced anyway. Noah sidles into his positioning on the sidelines alongside the understand that he has to leave it up to his kicker, whether or not the Titans will have the opportunity to get this ball back, to win this game.

"The team lines up for an anticipated onsides kick that the Titans can only hope they will be able to recover first." Noah fiddles nervously with the tips of his gloved fingers, eyes glistening as the scene on the field before him appears to be moving in slow motion. "Kicker Kurt Hummel has been nothing but solid for this Titans team all season and we will see if he has one more miracle left in this kick."

Their tiny kicker, miniaturized impossibly greater by his bulky equipment sends the ball flying with a precision that only a dedicated performer can master. Kurt Hummel has the ball sailing high into the air, about ten yards in front of him. Noah loses the ball quickly inside of the spotlights. Tiny, green dots flash before him as he attempts to stare into the bright overheads. By the time Noah finally retains his normal sense of vision, the only thing that he can make out is the pileup of bodies folded in on top of each other at midfield.

The silence indicates that the call of which team has recovered possession has yet to come from the referees.

Three refs pull and tug against the back of bickering teams' jerseys in an effort to catch a clearer image of what is stuffed at the bottom of the pile… Noah is certain that there is not a single person on this field right now who is actually breathing.

"Titans ball!" Noah hears the call before he sees the telltale sign of the refs pointing towards the direction of the Spartans' end zone. The roar that erupts from the crowd behind him is practically deafening. "With just over thirty seconds left the play, the referees indicate that it is the Titan's ball and the offense will take the field for one more opportunity to pull off the miracle!"

He was never the religious type, but Noah can't help but to utter the shortest of prayers as he trots onto the field, murmuring his pleas under his breath as he takes his position on the field for what he knows may very well be the final time.

"Hudson is back to pass and in an unusual move by the quarterback, he's got his tight end Matt Rutherford cutting across the inside. Hudson fires a beautiful pass to Rutherford but he is surrounded by defenders, this is an unusual call from Ken Tanaka who knew that this very well may be the final play of the game, and with the clock running out Rutherford is buried, but wait… It's a pitch! Rutherford pitches the ball to Puck Corcoran on the lateral who breaks a tackle and sprints down the field!"

Noah is certain that he has never moved faster in his entire life, and in his day, he has had a lot to run from. The boy's legs move seemingly on their own accord, his lungs filtering heavy doses of oxygen like a well oiled machine into and out of his rapidly pumping heart.

Noah's body moves with an organized grace and through it all, he does not feel a single thing.

"The linebacker latches onto Corcoran's shoulders. Another one leaps up and catches him around the waist. With ten yards to go, they're trying to get Corcoran onto the ground but he simply will not go down!" In the back of his mind, Noah is consciously aware of the fact that there are two grown teens dangling from his body, attempting desperately to throw him from the ground. But he is inches away now; he can barely feel their best of attempts. He is not going to go down. Not like this. "Puck Corcoran dives in towards the end zone; the Spartan cornerback is trying to catch him at the last second. He lunges from the side, makes a diving tackle and connects hard with Corcoran who falls straight to the ground. Is he in? Is he in?"

The first recollection of any sort of a conscious feeling that Noah has is a blinding pain that shoots through the side of his skull, travelling the entirety down the length of his spine as the inside of his head seems to explode like a dynamite going off.

The collision between him and the Spartan cornerback is the first physical entity that he identifies throughout the entirety of his run. Their eyes literally latch as their heads connect with a force that not even Noah's helmet can protect him from.

Noah falls to the ground hard. He lays still, reeling in the agony that the blow has caused him as, amidst the fog of a blinding pain that blocks his ability to so much as move, Noah can't help but to wonder whether or not he at least made it into the end zone.

"The referees are running over, we're gonna have to wait for the official call and… Touchdown! Touchdown Titans! The Titans win! The Titans win State!" Noah is surprised to find himself describing the sudden roar of the crowd before him as grueling.

It pounds through his skull, seeps through each and every crack and crevice and leaves him wondering why it is that nobody has seemed to notice that he is on the ground; that he is not getting up because physically he _cannot_ stand up no matter how hard he tries.

The thundering of pounding footsteps leaves the Earth beneath him quivering like an earthquake. Noah's muscles tense in anticipation of the worst. He cannot see his friends, his teammates, his family, but he assumes that they are rushing the field in celebration, hazed with the sweat sense of victory, blind to the point that Noah has become all but obsolete.

What if they don't ever realize that he is down here?

His heart constricts with the sudden notion of Shelby rushing the field to congratulate him, only to find him a crumpled mess against the turf. His mother has enough on her plate as it is she doesn't have to be burdened with an injured son as well. Noah's heart begins to beat exponentially, his breathing increasing to the point that he cannot seem to manage a proper flow of oxygen into his chest. He could die here; he can very well die right here, and if he goes, and if Rachel goes who was going to take care of their mother?

"Hold it folks. Puck Corcoran is down. Puck is down on the ground and he is not moving."

The voice swelters like that of an angle. Noah is provided with comfort towards the idea that at least somebody has recognized the fact that he is injured.

"He went down hard on that final tackle by the Spartan cornerback as he dove in for the touchdown. That was simply just a tremendous hit on Noah "Puck" Corcoran and he does not appear to be moving."

The stadium before him falls into a stone silence. Noah swears that he would be able to hear a pin drop should it so come to that. The celebration falters and dies directly before him, and if anything, this only forces Noah to perceive things as even worse.

"Noah can you hear me?" The boy's pull back into consciousness is met with a voice that sounds like a gunshot ringing through the air. His reconnection with the outside world forces Noah back into reality with a sharp inhale that burns at his aching lungs.

"Can you hear me Noah?" The question is repeated when his initial answer does not come swiftly enough, several unfamiliar faces hovering above him as he swallows his sudden uncomfortably dry mouth. He is in shock. He is in too much shock it seems, to so much as wrap his head around the concept of speaking.

"Noah can you hear me?" Noah finds himself vaguely registering a sense of annoyance towards the man standing before him for his repetitiveness as he blinks at the beaming penlight as it shines downwards and into both of his eyes. He cannot find it in him to physically respond as the overwhelming array of blinding white light leaves his head pounding and his chest heaving impossibly.

He wants to respond. He tries to respond but no words ever seem to emit from between his parted lips.

"Noah, can you squeeze my hands for me? Can you wiggle your toes?" He processes the instruction. Noah can physically hear the direction as he desperately wills his body to adhere to the motions, but no matter how much effort he seems to put into it, Noah's body simply does not want to follow the advice that his brain is providing it with.

"What do we have?"

"It may be a spinal injury." When the trainer whispers to the paramedics that come up along besides him, Noah can tell that he was not meant to hear it. His words leave the boy with an even sense of urgency. He tries impossibly harder, with a sense of pleading desperation to move. When he fails once more, he can call disappointment a profound understatement.

"I'm not sure yet."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry guys, in my rush last week I completely forgot to respond to your reviews. Please forgive me! I tacked them onto here :)<strong>

**Miriami** – **Thank you as always! Your kind words always make me smile! Noah still has a tough time ahead of him, in both the past and the present. It's actually kind of funny that you mention her refusal to receive treatments, because it is gonna play a part soon (I'm not gonna tell you on what timeline though) and it's definitely gonna be hard for Shelby to process. I'd say that my inspiration for this story was an accumulation of a lot of different families I saw come through. They were all amazing in their different ways. I feel like I can never give them enough justice to accurately depict everything that they had to go through. Thanks again though for being so great!**

**Isabella_Poulous**** – Oh wow, thank you so much! I knew the basic direction that I wanted to go at the beginning of the story but I've definitely added details here and there. At this point I know exactly what's gonna happen up until the end but this is a very recent development :) Thanks for the review!**

**Clara_Meliza**** – Thank you! I like writing the present chapters best for the most part too but while I was writing the last one, it kind of struck me that it was a big transitioning point for Noah from being an innocent little kid to the guy he grew up to be. Those weren't my initial intentions, but I guess things just have a tendency to work out that way sometimes. Thanks for the review :)**

**Solemnxhypnotic**** – I'm sorry to make you cry! I feel the same way about Quinn. She's going through a tough time as it is that is kind of helping her to see the light and make her change, but at the same time she just seemed like the perfect candidate to be that kid that made Rachel's life a living hell when they were younger so Noah has every right to get defensive. She'll get a bit more important in chapters to come. Thank you so much for your review! I'm honored that you're at a Harry Potter emotional level because I know exactly how that goes haha. **

**Baygirl123**** – Thank you!**


	37. Shelby Corcoran December 2011 Part I

**So I decided to split this chapter into two. You guys may hate me for it but it was getting way too long. But to make it up to you I will leave you with this little bit of spoilers; a few people were upset that I chose to throw another punch this poor little family's way but I assure you, Noah getting hurt is going to have a bigger affect on Shelby than it does Noah. She's been teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown for a long time coming now, and hers is the type of personality that I really needed something to put her over the edge before she truly expressed her feelings. This is that something. Noah will be fine, Shelby we'll just have to wait and see. Remember, it's going to get worse before it gets better!**

**Anyways, big shout out to all of you undyingly loyal readers. Your support keeps me trucking. Writing is my biggest stress reliever because of you guys so a big THANK YOU! is headed your way from me!**

* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – December 2011  
><em>(Part I)<em>

* * *

><p>Today, it is the shortest day of the year.<p>

Today, the winter solstice blankets them in darkness longer than any other day out of the remaining three hundred and sixty four.

Today, it is the shortest day of the year, but it might as well have been the longest.

Through the punctuated bodies jumping up and down in the midst of their celebrations – the flailing arms blinding her, the piercing screams that render her temporarily deaf – Shelby identifies that something is wrong the second that her son lands hard inside of the Titans' end zone.

A flash of heat rushes across her face. It is the middle of December in northwestern Ohio; the air is far from warm, yet suddenly, the layers that Shelby is wearing seem much too tight, much too constricting, much too hot.

She doesn't bother pausing to explain her intentions to the family seated beside her before she is rushing towards the field, pushing past the multitudes of bodies that swelter across the thick crowd… She struggles to nudge and elbow her way through the tightly packed patrons, fighting to appear as something that is so much more than just another member of the pack.

By the time she catches a clear break towards the field, her lungs seem to already be depleted of all oxygen. The sky is sweltering above her, clouds filtering across the beaming overhead lights in such a prominent manner that Shelby can't help but to wonder whether or not this is simply an illusion all in her head, or if even the clearest of skies can turn to grey this quickly.

"M'ame, you can't be over here!"

A police officer manages to catch up with her at the halfway point, her previously impressive sprint coming up just short as the crowd – rapidly silencing in their realization – catches a glimpse of just where their popular running back had received his athletic prowess from.

She barrels through the man so easily that he might as well have been made from glass.

"That is my son!" Shelby shoots him a warning glance as if to threaten him into attempting to stop her again. She is not surprised when he makes no attempts to do so.

Shelby Corcoran is a mother that has been granted the grace of super human strength; an adrenaline rush fueled by her bid to get to her ailing child as fast as she possibly can. Nobody else so much as dares to step in her way.

"Noah!" She is screaming like a lunatic in her approach, but Noah does not make any indication as to whether or not he has heard her. Shelby is not entirely certain that he possesses the physical capacity to do so, busied being manhandled by a small cluster of paramedics, struggling to strap him onto a backboard with his bulky helmet still strapped firmly to his head. Still, Shelby finds herself begging for answers. "What happened? Is he okay?"

She barricades herself easily through the crowd surrounding her son, who doesn't so much as budge in response to her voice. His eyes are wide from behind the gap left in his face mask, open and staring emptily up towards the sky. His pupils dilate to the size of nickels. Noah doesn't so much as blink.

"You're gonna have to step back miss…" A strong hand again Shelby's shoulder has her growing uncharacteristically hostile. She feels like a savage, rabid as she turns upon the man that had attempted pulling her away from her son with a look that leaves him recoiling.

"I am not leaving my son." She pronunciate her every syllable, her voice dripping with venom as she emphasizes the idea that this boy that they were currently hauling away to the hospital was her own.

"Let her through, she's clear…" The man shuffles Shelby forwards, gulping nervously in an action that Shelby barely notices, she is moving so quickly. "We're ready to move him anyway."

The stretcher is raised into the air with a jolt, leaving Shelby breathing with a heavy sigh of relief the second that she sees Noah responding to the slight motion; his eyes squeezing briefly shut with the quick bout of pain that accompanies it.

"Noah honey, I'm right here…" Shelby takes advantage of the movement, searching her son's face for a hint of recognition that never comes… Her hand lunges for his, a sharp, jerky motion that she retracts almost as quickly. She doesn't want to touch him, terrified that even the slightest contact will cause him more pain, more damage… Her eyes linger against the hand that rests unmoving tightly against Noah's side. She swallows her urge to grab it; an urge whose strength rivals even that associated with the desire to remove your hand from a scalding hot iron.

"Mrs. Corcoran, we're going to take your son to Lima Memorial…" The man before her speaks as if there were an option; as if there were another hospital that she would trust her oldest inside of more than the one that already encased his younger sister. "We suspect that he may have taken a pretty good shot to the head, but at the same time we need to rule out the possibility of there being a spinal injury just in case."

Shelby freezes in the midst of a double time march alongside Noah's gurney. The mere possibility of her son's spine being broken beyond all realms of repair is enough to have her stumbling. A sharp inhale feels like the gateway of an ice bath, flooding inside of her lungs.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Shelby forces herself forwards, muttering inaudibly under her breath as she does so… Until very recently, Shelby has found that room for prayer in her life had been severely lacking. In another time period, she had deemed the practice warrantless, unnecessary…

These days however, Shelby has found that she needs all of the help that she can get.

Her body moves on its own accord, carrying the tense mother into the back of the ambulance bed besides her son.

She finds herself eternally grateful towards the concept of subconscious motion, her mind otherwise much too clogged to remember how it is that one places one foot in front of the other.

Her brain feels skewed; condensed and jam packed with pleading notion that the hero is supposed to win at the end of at least _one_ of their epic stories, alongside the wonderment as to when it actually was that they had all reached that transition point into life growing so real all around them.

* * *

><p>She can't move.<p>

Shelby Corcoran stands amidst a crowded emergency room triage unit – as familiar to her these days as her own home – and suddenly, she finds herself struggling to so much as walk to her designated seats.

_You can do this, Shelby,_ Shelby begs herself to approach this situation with a level head. Her children cannot afford for her to do anything else. _This can make you or break you._ She speaks to herself in a quiet attempt to emphasize the idea that she can survive this. That she can be strong even though on the inside, she is positively dying. _You decide what to do with it._

Shelby approaches the reception area cautiously. The red and blue lights swarming all around her make a scene that is almost enough to distract from the idea that she must push forwards despite wanting nothing more than to run away.

She is more than aware of just how disheveled she looks right about now, the receptionist at the front desk having made it even more obvious the second that she gives Shelby a quick once over; a head to toe scan that has her first impression of the mother severely lacking.

But then again, anybody who throws Shelby so much as a glimpse these days can gather enough information to know that the weary mother was beginning to tire.

Her hands mesh together at the webs that lace between her fingers. The action is performed seemingly on its own accord as she tests the tensile strength of the appendages, twisting and bending them outwards; the pain in her hands taking away from that the expresses itself from inside of the pit of her chest.

She is satisfied only upon hearing every last one of her knuckles crack with a resounding force that has nearby heads turning with wonderment.

Shelby focuses on the sound, the entirety of her concentration directed upon the discomfort brought upon by the ruptured synovial sacks between the joints of her fingers. It is her final bid in a desperate attempt not to cry, not to become _that_ person alone inside of an emergency room making a scene.

_Just give up, Shelby_.

The greater of the two evils of Shelby's subconscious makes her attempts difficult. The subconscious voice whispers from over her shoulder, reminds her that she shouldn't bother containing her tears when she has absolutely every reason in the world to be crying.

_Your daughter is intensive care. Your son's neck is broken. You failed them, and this is all your fault._

Shelby chokes on the truth. Her distinct effort for control crashes and burns to the ground before her as she lowers her face into her open palms and releases a series of sobs that echo in a manner that has the room before her falling into a silence. Those closest to her shuffle anxiously away; they create a clear perimeter around her as if this will be enough to keep them out of the clutches of a grieving mother.

"Please…" When the begging tone of desperation is emitted from beyond Shelby's lips, she finds that it is completely devoid of her own control. She is not entirely certain where it has come from, nor where she has derived the strength to mutter such a plea as her trembling hands come together, elbows sinking into her knees, forcing Shelby forwards until her forehead rests against clenched knuckles in a vision of makeshift prayer. "Please Hiram… Hold them close to you. Please don't take them away from me. Not yet."

She extends her most sincere of prayers, of desperate wishes upwards towards her long deceased husband. Tears leak from underneath her eyes; Shelby can feel them tread easily down her cheeks, lubricated with moisture, rounding against the prominent cleft of her chin before making their suicide plunge against the tile ground below.

Not for the first time since Hiram's death, but for the most profound time in years, Shelby Corcoran finds herself missing her husband in that she truly _needed_ him at her side right about now.

She finds that she has nowhere that she can run, no place to turn to… Her days are laced with a progressive loss of sunlight as she waits for his ghost, sleeps simply to dream in order to be able to hear him tell her not to be afraid once more.

In the weeks that had followed Hiram's death, Shelby had found herself wondering how she could ever possibly make it through life without him by her side. But as the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years, Shelby found out for herself that she would do so by taking one step at a time.

That vast wasteland of grief, she finds it returning with a forceful vengeance, settling deep inside of the pit of her stomach, crippling her in her growing suddenly envious of the dead or at least their ability to be provided with a natural, underground shelter for those moments where they want nothing more but to disappear.

"You can't have them, Hiram!" Her own voice bellows above the otherwise lullaby of sirens as it attempts to sing its weary patrons to sleep amidst their wait. A couple jump instinctually. They pretend not to notice the woman so obviously before them as she descends upon her coming to terms with a full understanding towards the true meaning of a loss of control. They savor, for the next few moments at least, their own personal naivety towards the eventual realization that every single person enters into this world alone, and leaves just the same. "Not like this! You can't take them!"

Shelby tapers off, exhaustion powering an eventual freefall into her seat below. She doesn't even bother trying to hide her tears anymore. Eventually, all of the stares will taper off until they stop entirely, falling into nothing more than a few brief, pitiful glances; people silently thanking God that they didn't exist inside of this women's life when the reality of it all is that they didn't even know the half of it.

In her profound display of grief, it is impossible that these people, these strangers could ever possibly know just how deeply Shelby had dug through all of those white lines and thin cracks – without even particularly meaning to – and how she had fallen in love, learning in the process how to become perfectly content with driving down a road that lead to absolutely nowhere.

They can never understand that while most couples become parents by a case of complete accident, or for about a million other reasons that are not the least bit flattering or poetic, Shelby and Hiram Corcoran had had their two beautiful children hand delivered straight down to them.

But most importantly, _she_ for the life of her cannot understand how it was that she had ever gotten so lucky and why the person that wants it the most is always the one that has to come so close to having it taken all away.

* * *

><p>"Shelby?"<p>

She doesn't even realize that her eyes are closed until she feels the hand against her back. When they snap back open in a rush of blaring luminescent overhead lighting, Shelby can practically feel them strain with protest; reddening in an angry expression of exhaustion and grief.

Shelby feels the physical presence of her sister approaching her from behind before she actually hears or sees her… "Mom and dad are outside parking the car."

She doesn't know what else to say, and Shelby can't really blame her. She can't even come up with anything to say that could comfort herself… Shelby finds that she is choked up by the mere action of being bought so harshly back inside of the physical world. She attempts a response, but her words are swallowed by grief. Nothing escapes beyond a single choking sob; a squeal that immediately erupts into tears.

"It's okay. Let it all out." Krista does not attempt to halt the woman's ministrations once they'd begun. Instead, she promotes the waterworks as a means of cleansing, making quick, her motions to swing around into the seat besides her sister, rubbing gentle circles against the older woman's back as it heaves against her increasing struggles to catch her breath…

Shelby's mouth is open, but it strains against her noiselessly… Her eyes widen, her face paling with a desperate desire to take in a sufficient breath, but relief comes up empty; her gasping inhales coupling with a handful of choking sobs that leave the oxygen caught somewhere inside the center of her throat.

She pretends that she can feel her ribs cracking and splintering under the pressure of her lungs, desperate for air… The more Shelby thinks about it, the more she thinks that this is actually happening. Her sister's panicked face only enhances the idea that maybe she isn't making this feeling up after all.

"Shelby, you need to breathe." It is not a suggestion, instead a demand that is much easier said than done. Her head is scrambling, a magnificent array of colors that dazzle in front of her eyes. She is almost relieved by the idea that she will pass out soon.

"Breathe." Krista repeats the instruction when Shelby does not listen to her the first time. A set of hands grasps against either side of her face, her sister's thumbs grazing against the track marks left permanently from year's worth of tears. Desperate for something to latch onto, Shelby's arms dart upwards, grasping onto either of Krista's wrists as she struggles to follow the younger woman's instructions. "You have to breathe."

The lesson seems obvious, but at the same time it seems to be one that Shelby has long since forgotten how to commit to. White spots dance in front of her eyes, each punctuated by vivid memories of her breathing into a paper bag against the sidewalk in front of her home on the day that she had lost her husband.

She hasn't hyperventilated like this since then but this time, she does not have a paper bag. Shelby is on her own.

"In and out, Shelby…" Shelby gasps alongside a harsh, shaky inhale. The breath is short, barely productive but still, it's a start… The second time she tries, Shelby achieves a bit more productive of a breath… _Baby steps_, she tells herself as her sharp, sudden reintroduction towards the wonders of precious oxygen erupts into a coughing fit that has her head throbbing, her pulse pounding with a rhythmic overtime behind her eyes.

"Good, try again…" Her instructions are clear, and with each attempt, Shelby finds that she is able to take in a little more oxygen until finally her lungs are finished protesting with agony; punishing her for neglecting them with a lingering soreness that matches the one inside of her heart. "Everything is going to be okay, Shelby. Noah is a strong kid."

"_Everything is going to be okay…_" She manages to slowly repeat her sister's words through a small series of lingering coughs; the first noise that Shelby had produced since a quick bout of respiratory arrest nearly sent her into the trauma bay directly besides her son. Not even she recognizes her own voice. "That's what they said about Rachel too; that she would be fine. Look at where we are now, Krista."

"Hey, you need to trust me on this one Shelby," Krista emphasizes her assurances, leaving Shelby to swallow the bitter taste that her sister's empty words leave against her tongue, "It's going to get better."

"Do you think that I'm a good mother?" Tears lace inside of Shelby's eyes. Her question is honest. It is not meant to be condescending or demeaning, nor is it meant to make Shelby feel better. She just wants the answer, she needs the answer.

"Of course…" Krista stammers dumbfounded. She's astonished that Shelby would even think to question her abilities as a mother, long ago proven to be doused with nothing less than sheer dedication.

"Are you sure?" Shelby emphasizes her need for honesty that she doesn't want to be told one thing just because it's so seemingly obvious. Shelby needs somebody to understand that despite the idea that she had never planned on them living quite like this, that no matter what Shelby Corcoran was willing to be an absolute lioness for either of her children.

Her lips purse, eyes staring directly ahead as she concentrates on the door that separates the waiting room from the awaiting triage unit from beyond… It swings back and forth, a familiar face that never comes; doctors and nurses calling out names that are never hers.

"Shelby…" Krista swallows nervously, "What the hell is this all about?"

It used to drive Krista insane, her sister's relentless insistency to push aside the literal world that was being served to her on a damn silver platter for something as seemingly basic as a _family_.

The first time that she had announced to her family that she was pregnant with Noah Krista had barely spoken to her for the entirety of the nine month ordeal that carrying a fussy baby boy proved to be. She, like Shelby had once been, had yet to understand that children were not something that you had, but something that you _received_. It had taken Krista one look inside of her nephew's face to understand that an alternative of fame and fortune is in no way near as satisfying as a scribbled Crayola drawing or a straight A report card hanging by the magnets on her refrigerator.

"Would a good mother let her kid get sick… or hurt in the first place?"

"Shelby…" Krista's eyes narrow nervously in warning. She doesn't know what to say and Shelby cannot blame her very much… She never planned for this… she never planned for any of this.

In a time not too long ago, Shelby used to wonder whether or not parents would have multiple kids as a morbid source of backup, just in case… It seems callous – Shelby can only assume – for all of those parents that hadn't been forced to view it as practical.

Yet suddenly, the only thing that Shelby can seem to concentrate on is the idea that although she hasn't even physically _known_ her children for even half of her life, she can't seem to imagine what things may be like without them.

"Does Rachel know anything yet?" Krista pushes away from the subject, playing twenty questions with the source of Shelby's cryptic, mysterious comments in her efforts to find their answers. Shelby wonders if Krista would believe her if she told her that the truth was that there were no answers, that no matter how hard she searched, there would never be anything to be find.

"No," Shelby states firmly, her tone emphasizing the idea that Shelby did not tell Rachel, nor does she plan on telling her until absolutely necessary. "Rachel doesn't need to be worried about anything else right now. I don't want to tell her anything until we know what's going on ourselves." She trembles firmly with the reminder of what it was that they were waiting for. She doesn't want to think about the facts; the idea of her son broken and confined; plagued into solitude for the rest of his life… "They wouldn't let me stay with Noah in the ER, they kicked me out." Shelby hiccups as her breathes once more, struggle to complete a full cycle inside of her body. "They think… they think that he may have a spinal injury… Oh God, Krista, he might be paralyzed. He might never walk again. He might… He might…"

She's trembling again, unable to finish her own sentence as a lingering pain settles in that she can feel deep inside of her very bones. Her breathing is shallow. Every time Shelby exhales, it comes out as nothing more than a distinct whimper; a friendly reminder of just how far she's retreated into the depths of her own godforsaken despair.

"Shelby you have to stop this." Krista is growing genuinely concerned for her older sister and Shelby can't blame her… She just can't seem to suck in enough oxygen to inform her younger sister that she can't seem to pull herself back onto her own two feet for fear of just how much it might hurt when she fell back to Earth.

"It would kill him if that happened…" Shelby silently informs her sister that the truth is that she _can't_ stop even if she tried; even if she knew that everything that Krista was saying was the God's honest truth; that it was because _she_ is the mother here and it is her job to prevent any damage from falling upon her children. That it was because she had failed them… again. "It would kill us even more."

"Shelby, listen to me…" A hand snakes inside of Shelby's own. It squeezes gently but still, Shelby doesn't have the strength to reciprocate. "No matter what happens here, we're all in this together."

Shelby grows quiet in her swollen eyed agony. There are no more words to be spoken. Every time she so much as shifts in her position against her chair, it is punctuated by a loud, deep moan of agony that swelters across the entirety of her body.

Gradually, the familiar faces that she had been expecting begin to stumble in. Her parents attempt to be helpful just as her sister had done before them, failing just as miserably in Shelby's distinct fear to grow hopeful towards anything for fear that it should all be taken away.

Solemn football player who Shelby knows would rather be out getting drunk in celebration rather than stuck inside of an emergency room waiting for news on a teammate follow suite… She watches as Finn stumbles uncomfortable in with the back of the pack, hands in his pockets, sad eyes fixated determinedly against the ground. She pretends not to notice him and he does the same with her. This is not the time nor the place, they both know this.

"Mrs. Corcoran…" Ken Tanaka removes his hat respectfully in his approach. He holds a football tightly in his free hands; Shelby eyes it curiously as the man extends it towards her… It takes Shelby a moment to identify the signatures that litter the pig skin. "It's tonight's game ball. All of the guys signed it as a sort of get well present. Puck… I mean Noah; he deserves it the way that he played tonight."

Her shaking hands accept the gift. She cradles the light ball as if it were one of her own children, pulling it close and into her chest as she begs herself to gain control of her own breathing, not for the first time that night.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

"I'm proud of him…" Shelby murmurs in her gratitude, a small smile peaking outwards that almost hides her watering eyes.

"You should be." He nods, confident in his answer just as much as Shelby is herself.

When the glee club arrives shortly afterwards, it is in a swarm; a melting pot that has Shelby truly appreciating her brother's distinct array of friends. Santana, Brittney and Quinn have yet to so much as change out of their Cheerio's uniforms. Mike and Matt arrive with their fellow singers, but they stand out, still adorned inside of their game jerseys. The rest have all but painted themselves red as if in an attempt to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

The first thing that Shelby thinks about is the idea that the New Directions' second attempt towards Regionals was scheduled within a matter of hours now.

She makes a mental note to inform Will Schuester that the glee club is never allowed to perform again, seeing as how every time they do so, one of her children winds up inside of the emergency room.

Her heart aches for the club her children cherished so much, the kids who Shelby knows has worked so hard to get to where they are, only to be foiled at the seams once more.

Shelby's eyes linger. She is overwhelmed by the support, by the sheer generosity of Noah's friends, his classmates, his teacher's even… She finds a general sense of relief, the concept of safety in numbers rearing its head upon her as the waiting area becomes a sea of red; Titans supports looking on in an effort to help one of their own.

But even this relief, like most that Shelby has learned to cherish these days, is short lived.

At first glance, when she sees Dr. McCarthy strolling outwards, eyes scanning across the tops of heads, clearly in search for Shelby, she thinks nothing of it.

The man is all but another member of her family by now. It would not be entirely out of the ordinary for him to have come down to check on Noah upon hearing about his accident…

The second that her eyes open up a little bit wider and she catches a glimpse of the nurse that is flanking him on one side, and two security guards on the other however, that bubble of panic inside of her stomach swells up once more, twice the size than it had even been beforehand.

The last thing that Shelby needs right now is a reminder that Noah is not her only child who's life is currently hanging in the balance.

The manner by which she shoots up and to her feet has those surrounding her leaping up in their surprise. She hears the voices that are calling her back, asking her what is the matter but she can't bring herself to respond to them as she marches forwards towards the doctor.

Shelby knows the truth before she even arrives at his side. Something has happened with Rachel and judging by the look on the faces of those that are standing before her, it is not good.

"Dr. McCarthy!" She calls for the man's attention, his somber eyes latching upon her own as she silently pleads for immediate answers. "What's wrong?"

Shelby's heart lurches at her own words. Immediately, she finds herself regretting ever leaving Rachel's side… If only she had stayed at the hospital instead of going to that damn football game… Maybe then, Noah wouldn't have gotten hurt. Maybe then, Rachel would have pulled off a remarkable recovery over night.

The chances of either happening are slim; somewhere in Shelby's conscious mind she knows this. But that does not detract from their prominence dancing across the surface of Shelby's brain.

"Is Rachel down here with you?" Shelby swallows a breath and nearly chokes on it… Considering the idea that this is the very last thing that she had expected Rachel's doctor to say, to say that she is taken aback is an understatement.

"Of course not," Shelby raises an eyebrow. Her first impression in her heightened state of alertness is that the man before her is accusing her of the risky action rather than merely asking her about it, as ridiculous as that may be. "I would never risk Rachel's health by taking her down to the ER, you know that…"

"I'm sorry Shelby I didn't mean it like that…" He waves off her natural defensiveness, pausing through a heavy swallow as she attempts to figure out an appropriate means by which he can rephrase his question. "What I meant to ask you is whether or not you've told Rachel that Noah has been brought to the ER?"

"No…" Shelby slows herself down in her answer as she struggles to piece together what it is that he is trying to ask with all of these bizarre questions. "What's going on?"

The silence that filters between Shelby's question and the doctor's answer is thick as cement. She can almost hear her heartbeat as it pounds harder and harder against the inside of her ribcage.

Shelby finds that she wants him to hurry up and keep talking almost as much as she wants him to shut the hell up already, turn around and pretend like none of this ever even happened.

"We think that maybe somehow Rachel found out about Noah on her own." He finally speaks, moving with cautious, slow words that mean nothing to Shelby. She taps her feet impatiently. "About fifteen minutes ago when the nurse went into Rachel's room to check on her, she wasn't there."

"Wait…" Her foot comes to a standstill in an uncomfortable flex. She swallows the information slowly, realization dawning upon her exhausted features as her body straightens in a natural response, adjusting itself to the familiar tightness inside of her chest all over again. "Are you trying to say that Rachel is… that she's… _missing_?"

The word tastes sour against her tongue, and when Dr. McCarthy doesn't answer her for several distinct seconds, the implication becomes more than enough of an answer.

"None of the nurses saw her leave," He finally explains, only upon giving her enough time to allow the notion that her daughter had slipped unseen from intensive care to seep in. "But she is definitely not on the ward right now."

"She couldn't have… She doesn't have the strength… Are you absolutely certain that she ran off in order to go find Noah?" A sudden, terrible thought explodes like a tornado inside of her mind. It seems barbaric, impossible even, but in the midst of her budding panic, Shelby's mind can't help but to automatically travel upon the worst possible scenario. "It's not possible that somebody could have… could have _taken_ her, right?" The idea alone is enough to leave her spiraling with a panic. "I mean, even criminals have to have some sort of moral code against kidnapping kids out of the ICU, right?"

"Shelby, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath, okay?" He puts a stop to the harmful rant before it can even really get started. Shelby is positive that should one more person instruct her on how to breathe again today, she will simply start holding her breath out of sheer protest. "We're positive that Rachel is out looking for Noah. A receptionist informed us that a girl matching Rachel's description when into the trauma bay about fifteen minutes ago looking for a _Noah Corcoran_. He was still in the exam room at the time so she didn't have any information for her. When the receptionist asked about Rachel's relationship with Noah, she ran."

"Oh my God, she's afraid…" Shelby breathes heavily, her own fears budding relentlessly inside of her chest towards Rachel's notorious reputation for being damn good at disappearing when she wants to. "She's afraid that if she comes to me that I'll be mad at her for leaving…" The circumstance alone has Shelby trembling with the precariousness of Rachel's situation. Shelby is impressed that Rachel had found the strength to pull herself up and out of her bed at all, let alone to weave her way through the hospital with a stealthy prowess that has left her virtually unseen.

Tears spring rapidly inside of her eyes. The implications of Rachel passing out inside of some deserted corridor where she can remain for hours without anybody finding her is enough to hit her like a bullet to the chest.

"We'll find her, Shelby." The doctor registers her panic, attempts to downplay the situation as to ease her fears when in reality, the only thing that could ever do that is her daughter at her side, and her son safe and sound.

"Do you have anybody looking for her?" The answer seems obvious but at the same time, it is one that Shelby must hear for herself. The mental image of her daughter all alone and in pain is much too prominent for her to simply gloss over assumptions without demanding definitive answers.

"Of course we do," The doctor nods his head quickly. He has enough experience with this woman to recognize that it is exactly what Shelby truly needs. "All of the entrances to the hospital are being guarded. All of the staff members have already been informed…"

"I just don't understand. How… how is this possible?" There is a flashback, a sudden memory that has Shelby unable to help but to ask this seemingly impossible question with a hint of accusation. After all, it _was_ only a matter of hours ago that her son had been all but strip searched at the entranceway of the ICU, forced to put up a fight just to go inside to see his sister. With all of the extra security, all the extra observance, how was it possible that _her_ daughter; so sick, so frail, struggling to so much as roll over inside of her bed, let alone run away, had managed to slip straight through the cracks. "How could she have snuck out of intensive care?"

"I don't know." The doctor admits with an apologetic shake of his head, "But you know as well as I do that Rachel does have a tendency to… disappear when she wants to." He chooses his words carefully. Shelby reaches upwards, rubbing angry, frustrated tears away from her eyes with a clenched fist. This statement of course, has an unfortunate truthfulness that has the chronically tense mother wading inside of a bubble of panic that is just waiting to burst.

"Please find her." Shelby doesn't even bother trying to hide the pleading tone that exists behind her words. Shelby Corcoran is working on an absolute overdrive, and it is one that she knows, there is no hiding from anyone.

Her son is in the ER with a potentially broken neck and now, her dying daughter is missing. Nobody expects anything less from her, Shelby knows this…

Nobody, that is, other than the exception of Shelby herself.

"We will," He offers her the firm promise as if his words will be enough to come her down. "I can promise you that much, Shelby. We will find her."

She can only nod. She tries to act believable but the truth is that she is finally seeing her situation to be nothing short of hopeless.

The only difference it seems is that she is the last person to figure all of this out.

* * *

><p><em>She hasn't been on a date in nearly a decade. <em>

_When her and Hiram had first gotten married, date nights had grown into a regular routine. Then Noah had been born, and between Shelby's burgeoning Broadway career and Hiram's nursing, the two new parents struggled enough to match their schedules in a manner that accommodated Noah. Date nights had fallen completely out of the question._

_ Even after Shelby had quit the stage for the calling of motherhood, it was only a matter of months before Rachel had come along, her youngest child proving to be even more demanding than the rigorous Broadway schedule itself. _

_Through an extended series of rather unfortunate events, it had eventually seemed that Shelby was slated for single parenthood from the very moment that Hiram had died onwards and through the rest of her life._

_ But eventually, things had settled down despite Shelby's previous insistencies that they would never get back to normal from their position so far at the end of the rope. Rachel had gotten healthy, Noah had grown old enough to be at least semi-entrusted in the hands of a responsible babysitter, and Shelby just so happened to have caught the eyes of her latest suitor; the new assistant music director at the job that she had held at Lima Theater for Performing Arts the past two years._

"_Okay Lauren, I'm gonna head out!" Shelby calls to her kids' babysitter; the only one that she had ever managed to convince to come back for seconds after her rambunctious son had managed to drive out all of the rest. _

_ She hikes her jacket up further around her otherwise exposed shoulders, buttoning it to the collar in an effort to protect her from the frigid winter air outside, the honking horn indicative of the date waiting for her just outside of her front door, beckoning to her invitingly. _

_ "Um… Mrs. Corcoran?" The young teen calls the older woman back. Her voice is uncertain, leaving Shelby sighing with the idea that she would have to pause to show Lauren how to use their complicated new DVD system for a third time that night. It is only when Shelby turns to notice the look of concern that glisten's across the girl's face that her own expression falters. "Have you seen Rachel?" _

_ "What?" Shelby skids to a halt in the doorway, her brows arching with the beginnings of a hint of concern as she looks past the shoulder of her children's babysitter towards the living room, searching for a glimpse of the daughter that she thought had been right there the entire time only to come up empty. _

_ She retreats back inside of the house, appalled with herself that in her rush, she had completely lost track of her ever-curious seven year old. _

"_Rachel," The teenager repeats although Shelby is already tearing through the house in search of her, "I haven't seen her…" _

"_Rachel!" The mother is perched at the base of the stairs and calls upwards to her daughter; her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound casual. Experience however has left nobody blaming Shelby for holding onto her children a little bit closer than the rest. "Rachel, come down here right now!" _

_ When there is no response echoing from back down the stairwell, Shelby produces a heavy sigh that correlates directly with a second blare of a car horn from outside… She was late… again. _

_ "Lauren, can you just do me a quick favor and run outside to tell Tim that I will be right there." Shelby removes her coat and rolls up her sleeves, attempting to ignore the pounding in her chest as she makes her way up the length of the staircase._

_ "Sure…" The girl sounds unsure, but she follows the instruction anyway as Shelby rounds against the second landing. Her son's bedroom door is wide open the rambunctious ten year old having retreated into his bedroom hours ago out of protest in his insistency that he was much too old to have a babysitter anymore.._

"_Noah, have you seen your sister?" He pounds away at a video game controller with an aggressive intensity. He doesn't even look up at her. _

"_No mom…" Shelby is surprised that she even got an answer from him. His eyes are glued to the television screen in a manner that has Shelby making a mental note to take away that gaming system and force the boy out of the house to play outdoors for a little while…_

"_Rachel!" She calls again, turning back into the hallway, choosing not to linger on the lost cause that is her trying to get answers from her zombified son. Her shout increases in its volume, bordering with an undertone of a distinct combination of worry and anger towards her daughter's inability to listen to her. She is just about to shout for her again when a gentle whimper projects from the end of the hallway._

_ Shelby's head snaps abruptly towards the source of the noise, concern billowing beneath her skin as she recognizes the distinct sound of her daughter crying… Panic flutters across her chest just as it always has a tendency to do when Rachel makes an abrupt indication that any sort of pain has befallen upon her. _

_ For nearly three years now, Rachel has been in a consistent remission, and despite the initial indication that her treatments had worked their charm upon her, that Rachel was finally healthy again, Shelby refused to allow herself to believe anything other than the idea that eventually, somebody would approach her in order to inform her that these three years of peace had all been one giant mistake._

_ She has no other choice but to live like this. Now, every time Rachel so much as comes down with a sniffle, Shelby is rushing her to the doctor, certain beyond any reasonable doubt that it is happening again._

_Three years after all is a long time to go without incident in this family. _

_Shelby follows the direction of the sound, walking quietly on tiptoes towards the linen closet that is open but a crack. When she opens it, at first she sees nothing… It doesn't take long however, for her to spot her tiny daughter curled up in a ball on the floor beneath the shelves, buried inside a tight cocoon of towels that practically smothers her. _

_ The child squints in response to the sudden presence of light amidst her otherwise darkness, burrowing further into her refuge in one final, desperate bid for escape. _

_ "Rachel, what are you doing in here?" Shelby's concern quickly transforms into a worried frustration when Rachel's bid for silence continues, the girl hiding her face deep inside of a stray washcloth. "Rachel, come out of there right now!"_

_ "No!" Her high pitched expression of determination to stay exactly where she was has Shelby's eyes narrowing, her hands traveling automatically to her hips as if to warn her young daughter that she did not have the time to play games right now, that if Rachel was going to choose to make things difficult for Shelby, then the mother was perfectly willing to reciprocate the actions in return. _

_ She reaches forwards, ready to grab the girl by her tiny arms and physically drag her out of the closet if she had to when Rachel's fearful whimpering as the child curls herself into an even tighter ball has the mother softening… _

_This was not Rachel simply trying to be difficult. Something was wrong. _

"_What's the matter, honey?" Shelby asks with a gentleness that has Rachel deeming it safe to poke her head out from beyond her designated hiding space. "Why are you hiding?"_

_ "I don't want you to go…" Rachel chokes slightly on her confession, hiccupping through an apparently desperate attempt to keep her mother home tonight. _

_ "Rachel, I'm only going out to dinner." Shelby can't help but to laugh slightly; both relieved and touched that Rachel's apparent motive was simply that she did not want her mother to leave her side. "I'll be back before it's even your bedtime. I promise." _

_ "Noah says that you're going out to get us a new dad." Rachel's words stop Shelby in her tracks. Her eyes widen with surprise as she reminds herself to have a talk with Noah about the things that he tells his sensitive sister. _

_ "He did, did he now?" Shelby breathes gently as Rachel nods her head, trying to buy herself a little bit of time to come up with an explanation towards the concept of dating to her seven year old, who is still struggling to understand why it is that all of the other kids in her class get to have two parents while she is stuck with only one._

_ "Oh honey…" Shelby sighs heavily, hoping to project just how sincere she is in her apology, "I'm just going out with a friend for dinner… I promise you that I'm not coming back with anybody tonight." _

_ "I don't want a new daddy, momma…" Rachel doesn't believe her. The girl that trusts her to inform her when it is safe to cross the street, or to tell her honestly whether or not something is going to hurt at the doctor's office doesn't believe her over something that seems to be so simple in comparison._

_ Shelby widens her stance with a distinct purpose. She needs Rachel to believe her. The entirety of their little family unit survives solely on the basis of trust. _

_ She drops down to her knees with determined, exaggerated movements, forcing Rachel to poke her head out curiously, eyeing her mother as if she is crazy as Shelby lays herself against the carpeted floor besides Rachel so that the two are laying directly eye-to-eye. _

_ It is enough to pull the smallest hint of a smile from beyond her daughter's tightly pursed lips. _

_ "Rachel Barbra Corcoran, do you really think that I would ever do something like that to you or your brother without talking to you guys about it first?" Shelby's dress rides uncomfortably against her thighs, creating a friction that combines in the form of static electricity, shocking her uncomfortably in a manner that leaves her flinching but is still entirely worth the struggle as she watches Rachel eye her with a thoughtful caution before slowly shaking her head as if to indicate that the more she thought about it, the more she believes her fears to be unwarranted. "You two are the most important things to me in the entire world, okay?"_

_ "Okay…" Rachel nods in a believable manner, a smile forcing its way from her mouth that reveals the front tooth that she had lost just last night. _

_ "I'll be back in a couple of hours," Shelby emphasizes her promise. "Don't let your brother scare you with all of his made up stories. You know how Noah can be sometimes." _

_ "I won't." Rachel's head shakes fervently as if trying to convince her mother that she can be brave, a fact that Shelby had already learned for herself a long time ago. _

_ "Good," Shelby confirms with a strong nod of her head as she pulls herself up and onto her feet, helping the young girl before her to follow suite, guiding her by the hand out of the small closet._

_ "And Rachel…" Shelby squats before her daughter so that the two are brought to eye level, brushing the dust from Rachel's shoulders as her eyes scan across the girl, a quick once over in order to ensure that there would be no lasting damage before her hands rest against Rachel's bony shoulders, squeezing gently, yet at the same time with an assuring strength. "I love you the most… You remember that, okay?"_

_ Rachel nods gently and this time, Shelby actually believes her when she quietly informs her mother that she is going to be okay. _

"_I love you the most too, momma."_

* * *

><p>The second that she finds the first chance for escape, Shelby takes it.<p>

Her eyes are blinded with tears. She can hardly see a damn thing in front of her, a phenomenon that she'd previously believed experience would get her used to…

So much for that.

Her bid to run has the mother distinctly aware of where her daughter has inherited her tendencies to run and hide… She tries not to blame Rachel, but the means by which her heart feels as though it is about to explode inside of her chest makes this difficult.

Bursting throughout the various turns and dead ends of the vast hallways and corridors, Shelby finds herself incapacitated by her grief as she looks for someplace, any place that she can go, that she can finally lose control in peace.

There is a distinct term for the hopeless loner that most people don't recognize until they have to – _rogue_.

They move silently; quiet, yet at the same time swift. Most distinguishably, they are those that travel completely and utterly alone. A lifetime spent trying to _avoid_ interactions, rather than making them.

Shelby has spent the entirety of her lifetime thus far trying to convince herself that she was not an example of this despite the fact that she is the absolute portrait of one of the world's most marvelous creations to date gone horribly awry.

The sudden reminder towards the notion that the harder you work to build up your life around others, the harder that it will all come to collapse all around you however, makes the truth unavoidable any longer.

Really, it's only a matter of time until you have nothing left at all.

She has never feared being alone until she no longer had a choice. The thought had gone from a mere blip on Shelby's radar, to becoming one that was entirely unavoidable.

Her husband is already gone. With Rachel's life hanging on a mere thread while Noah's dangled on a thin cord directly beside it, the probability of Shelby waking up alone tomorrow has gone from improbably, to a prospect that makes her heart burst just thinking about it.

When she finally does find an empty exam room to hide inside of, the silence makes her head spin. The only thing that Shelby can hear is that incessant ticking of the second's hand on the clock dangling directly above her head; a persistent reminder that Father Time is the real monster that people should learn to fear the most.

Fables such as Dracula or Frankenstein, you can learn to reason with. Time on the other hand, never listens; it doesn't give a rat's ass about you or your desperations. It is almost as though the clock finds entertainment in its ability to push you around, taking advantage of the fact that you have no choice but to allow it to happen as you sail alongside its relentless rules.

But despite it only being a perceived sense, the idea that she has absolutely no control over something is a feeling that Shelby Corcoran is still not entirely used to.

"Please… please let them be okay…" She produces nothing more than a mere whisper as she prays to God, asking him for advice, solace, anything… But Shelby has never been the religious type and she has the slightest feeling that whoever was up there was a very busy man. Top priority must only come to the most frequent of customers.

Shelby is not surprised when she never receives an answer.

Her body genuinely aches; it is a heavyset burning that originates inside the very pit of her stomach and radiates outwards.

When the first sob escapes from against her throat, she is distinctly aware of just how ugly the sound is.

She doesn't have the strength to care.

When Shelby is finally brought to the ground with an agony-fueled defeat, even she is appalled by the sheer ferocity of the sounds that are coming out of her mouth.

Except this time, she is alone… Like an animal that searches for a place to die in solitude, Shelby is all by herself. There is nobody around her that will remind her to breathe. It doesn't take very long for the action to simply stop all together.

The sounds that escape from her mouth are primal. Her lungs are battling with her brain's unwillingness to inhale in a manner that collides so painfully that Shelby almost wishes that it will kill her sooner rather than later.

Her head is floating on air, subconscious allusions brought on by a lack of oxygen so that she finds it almost peaceful, the astonishment of just how much the world can press down against your shoulders.

There is not a single word in the English language for a grief that is this big. The reminder that her situation possesses the capacity to get even worse than this leaves Shelby terrified for her future.

She concentrates on the coldness of the tiles beneath her body as if this will possibly make things easier.

When she finally does filter into silence, it is through a mass of shortened, staccato breaths and painful hiccups that vibrates against the back of her throat until she feels as though she has left a gaping hole against the center of her esophagus.

The quiet that she leaves behind lingers until she can't even here the sirens anymore.

Her heart pounds inside of her ears. Every beat is a reminder that the mother is out of moves, out of ideas. This world is devoid of her own control, and now, she has nothing left to do other than wait on a genuine miracle.

She has already spent so much time waiting on an act of God that she should have known that sooner or later, it would have brought her straight down to her very knees.

* * *

><p><strong>Baygirl123<strong>** – Thank you! I know, I know things are going to get worse for this little family before they get better, but there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. **

**Gleek101**** – Noah is gonna be okay, but his getting hurt is going to have more of an emotional impact than a physical one. Shelby is going to be very reluctant to let him out of his sight and it's going to lead to some tension, particularly when it comes down to Noah being a possible donor for Rachel. This is definitely the beginning of a breakdown that was a long time coming for Shelby. Thanks for the review!**

**Guest**** – Thanks for the review! Noah will be okay, the main purpose of his getting hurt isn't really to affect Noah as much as it is Shelby. It's really starting to hit her what a precarious situation her and her family is in right about now and it isn't going to be pretty. Thanks again!**

**Clara Meliza**** – Nope, Noah is definitely going through as tough a time as the rest of them. It's definitely going to start taking its toll. Thanks for the review.**

**Miriami**** – Thank you so much! I absolutely love reading your reviews, they always make me so happy haha. Should I consider that a proposal? Hahaha. You can always PM me if you want to know anything, I won't make you make that big of a commitment :) When I get writer's block mostly I just get really frustrated and force myself to walk away and do something. The good thing is that I'm a lifeguard during the summer so I spend a lot of time sitting in a chair staring at absolutely nothing during the day which is surprisingly a good way to pop up with a few ideas. Thank you as always for such kind words!**


	38. Shelby Corcoran December 2011 Part II

**Shelby Corcoran** – December 2011  
><em>(Part II)<em>

* * *

><p>When somebody finally finds her, it comes in the form of her sister, who walks in on Shelby sitting with a cross legged stoniness on top of the bed in the center of the room.<p>

Not even she is entirely certain how she got there.

"Are you okay?" The answer seems immediately obvious. Shelby's eyes sag, they project an obvious exhaustion that has left Shelby too exhausted to so much as commit to crying anymore. It is clear that she is far from okay.

"How did we get here, Krista?" Her sister tenses, nervous in regards to the older woman's morbid vagueness. Shelby can only reason that she has every reason to be. Her usual portrait of strength currently falling apart at the very seams is starting to frighten even her.

"You need to home Shelby. Get some sleep, eat something… I'll stay here with Noah and Rachel tonight." The suggestion is one that brings an immediate reaction upon Shelby, who shakes her head vigorously as if to indicate that she is not willing to leave her children. Not now, not when they needed her the most.

"Rachel is missing."

The mention of her daughter's name sparks the abrupt confession, her bluntness somehow making it easier for her to say although she cannot be entirely sure that the same can be said for the receiving end.

She watches as her sister immediately freezes; her face whitening as any previous suggestion that Shelby return home for the evening disappears against her lips entirely.

"What?" She finally manages; a short, choking gasp. Shelby can hear even the shortest syllable getting stuck against the back of her throat as she speaks.

"She ran away looking for Noah…" Shelby sounds casual as the words project from her lips, but it is all a forced façade. The panic is clearly evident inside of face; the remnants of a lingering breakdown.

"Did they call security? Are they looking for her?" Her sister echoes the mother's own concerns. Shelby identifies the terror written inside of Krista's own face and finds that it is incredibly reminiscent of looking inside of a mirror. "I mean, how far could she have gone, right?"

"They're doing everything that they can, Krista…" Shelby sighs heavily. She's too tired to make excuses as to why her daughter was not safely by her side right now, too tired to offer much more of an explanation apart from this. "Just like always."

"Listen Shelby, if Rachel is looking for Noah than… well than she's bound to run into us eventually, right?" She shoots an attempt towards the role of lead optimist, mirroring the assurances that Dr. McCarthy had provided her with mere moments ago… But none of them – not even Krista – knew Rachel like Shelby does. They didn't understand her chronic bid to run from her deepest of fears, her tendencies to clutch onto the safety net of solitude to the point that it becomes downright dangerous.

"What if something happens to her before then?" Shelby's voice wavers with instability all over again as her most prominent of concerns push past the barrier of her lips. She tries desperately to push through them, but they are met with nothing more than yet another surge of tears as she wipes a shaking hand across the top of her head through a deep, exaggerated breath.

"Don't think like that, Shelby." Krista instructs her as if it were that easy for Shelby to simply just forget, "Those what if's, they're gonna eat you alive you know that. We have to trust that the hospital staff will find her right now. We have to trust them, and we have to trust Rachel."

"I have to go find her…" Shelby murmurs inaudibly, shaking her head as if to indicate that while she does trust both her daughter, as well as those committed to finding her under ordinary circumstances, this situation was far from ordinary.

She doesn't trust a damn thing aside from herself right now.

"Just let security do their job and…"

"She's _my_ daughter!" Shelby bellows towards her sister in a manner that has the younger woman halting in her tracks… Her face pales, sinking dramatically. It creates the illusion that they are teenagers again, that Shelby is arguing with her for stealing her clothes out of her closet, or listening in on her phone conversations with her boyfriend… The reality that this time, it is so much more than that has the mother standing to her feet, broadening her stance in a dominating manner. "She's my responsibility Krista, not the hospital staff's! I _have_ to go find her."

Her face crinkles with fear, a momentary surge of energy depleting just as quickly as it has been obtained. By the time she commits to the motion to push past her sister and back out into the hallway, Shelby has absolutely nothing left. And Shelby knows her sister; if she can play hardball, then so can Krista.

She isn't the slightest bit surprised when she feels the younger woman grab her by her shoulders and practically push her back down onto the bed.

"Shelby, you need to stop this." Krista's voice is stern and hard yet at the same time, dripping with concern. Not for the first time, but definitely the most prominent, Shelby can see the lingering images of their own mother deep inside of her face. She doesn't even bother trying to fight her. "You're running around this hospital in a panic and it isn't going to do any good for either Rachel or Noah right now. You need to trust that everything is going to be okay."

"But what if I can't?" Shelby admits to her own dark secret, her voice trembling as her vision clouds with a watery disposition all over again… It is a chronic, recurring weakness and no matter how many times Shelby believes herself to be past it, it always manages to come back and haunt her in the end.

"You have to." This is an idea that Shelby has already known for a long time now. Composure is but another necessary component in not only her survival, but her children's as well. "Let security do their job okay? They will find Rachel. Right now you need to sit here and you need to breathe before you end up inside of the bed right between Rachel and Noah."

Her sister was persistent and persuasive. Shelby can only assume that she hadn't become a lawyer for no apparent reason…

But her casual nod of understanding, an agreement to at least _attempt_ everything that her sister is instructing her to do is cut short by a small, hesitant knock on the door.

The second that Shelby sees her mother lingering inside of the doorway, she identifies just how miserable her attempt of finding complete solitude truly was in her distress… She had thought herself to be alone when in reality she'd remained no more than an arm's length away the entire time.

"Hey guys…" She approaches the pair cautiously but at the same time, strategically chooses to keep her distance for fear of the reaction upon interrupting the two emotionally incapacitated sisters. "There is a doctor outside in the waiting area for Noah…"

Shelby shoots upwards and to her feet instinctually before she so much as has the time to process her mother's words. Swallowing heavily, she attempts desperately to adhere to her sister's own advice, begging her body to relax amidst her rush of natural endorphins as she focused on know and allowed the hospital staff to worry about Rachel for the time being.

_One problem at a time._

She marches with a double time commitment through the hallway despite her initial assumptions towards the idea that she didn't so much as have the energy to breathe anymore. Her speed leaves her mother and sister trailing prominently behind her.

Shelby bursts inside of triage. Her ability to identify Noah's doctor comes with a satisfying immediacy in that there is no other option other than him being the man that is currently being surrounded by half of William McKinley's population.

She pushes through to the center; like Moses parting the Red Sea, her journey is laced with ease. Shelby breathes through every single step that she commits to, her pulse pounding inside of her temples, every beat producing yet another prayer for this news to be good.

"Come on Shelby…" Her family eases their way through the crowd behind her, her mother placing a gentle hand against her shoulder in the reminder that no matter how old you get, sometimes you simply need your mom by your side for some things…

She guides one foot carefully in front of the other and forces herself to keep moving. Shelby pulls herself together because she has no other choice… Sometimes, you simply have to put other people's lives ahead of your own because those people were depending on you to do so.

Right now, Rachel and Noah were depending on her.

"Mrs. Corcoran…" Her eyes remain stone as she complies to the diligent, robotic movements of this doctor's hand, reaching outwards in order to shake his extended hand. Even she is wondering how it is that she can commit to this motion so casually when on the inside she is struggling to so much as breathe. A single word bubbles inside of her mind – _practice_. "I'm Dr. Rosenthal. I treated your son in the ER."

"How is he?" She writes professionalism all across her face. Her voice doesn't so much as tremble. It is a significant improvement to the struggles that she had endured mere moments before and although she _wants_ to beg him for good news, although she _wants_ to get down on her knees and plead with him to tell her that everything is going to be okay, she does nothing of the sort.

"Noah is going to be okay." Shelby truly learns to appreciate her body's natural ability to breathe on its own accord now that she'd spent the last several hours feeling as though an elephant had been sitting on her chest. She commits to her first decent breath of air that she has taken in what feels like years. Her head feels so congested with relief that can barely recognize the approving cheers of those standing before her. "There were no signs of any neck or spinal injuries but he did take a pretty hard hit to his head. He does have a concussion but he is now alert and speaking to us. He is also responding to stimuli again and has reported feeling in all of his extremities. There's no reason for us to believe that there will be any lasting damage."

"Oh, thank God…" Her words are quick, punctuated with short, staccato gasps.

"We're going to keep him overnight just to monitor him but other than the possibility that he may be a little bit out of it for the next couple of days, as long as he takes it easy, there's no reason for me to think that he will not make a full recovery."

"Can I see him?" The adrenaline pitting deep inside of her veins settles in the manifestation of a small tremor that wracks her very limbs. Even she can hear the sound of her own voice trembling. Shelby has been composing herself so well up until this very point that she is almost embarrassed.

"He's upstairs having a CT scan right now." Shelby nods her head as though she understands, but still her disappointment is prominent upon her face. "He should be settled into a room within the next half hour or so. The nurse will come out to get you when he is ready."

"Thank you…" Shelby expresses her gratitude as she sends the man back to his diligent duties of saving more lives, of delivering good news to unsuspecting parents who could not have imagined their days ending in such a tragic manner as hers had done today.

But even still, there remains a heavy weight that bears down upon the deepest pieces of her heart. Her relief is merely momentary, her body physically sinking alongside the motions of her brain pushing aside one problem only to make room for the next.

Her daughter is still nowhere to be found.

"Hey, what's the matter? Are you okay?" Her sister comes up behind her, struggling to piece together Shelby's unforeseen reaction to what Krista had interpreted as good news. Small but impossibly strong hands rest against Shelby's shoulders and suddenly, as nice as it may feel to have a sister supporting her in the manner that Krista does, at the same time Shelby is certain that if one more person asks her whether or not she is okay, she is really going to snap.

"I have to go find Rachel." Shelby's tone is purposeful in that it's avoiding, strategic in that it makes her intentions clear from the very beginning. She doesn't bother to sugarcoat her words alongside the understanding that no matter how it is that she spins things, she will be ill advised against these actions.

"Shelby…" Shelby is expecting the disappointment behind Krista's tone but this does not make the cringe that she produces any less prominent. Shelby loves her sister to death, really she does it's just that the younger woman standing before her simply cannot understand what sitting back and allowing somebody else to charge the brigade searching for her daughter will do to her.

Shelby Corcoran is already broken. She does not need any more cracks.

"Don't, Krista!" She snaps at her sister in a manner that has the woman retreating. The fire inside of Shelby's eyes is enough to inform Krista that the time to baby her older sister through her grief is over. She has felt that rush of relief once before already; addicted, she knows that will be unable to live without more. "You heard Noah's doctor, I have at least a half an hour to kill until he's settled into a room and if you think that I am going to spend that time sitting on my ass while I wait for complete strangers to find my daughter than you're crazy. You don't understand, those people, they don't know Rachel. If they bombard her she'll just get scared. She'll try to run or to hide or… they're only going to make things worse. Trust me."

"Okay, okay…" Krista secedes the second that the tears reappear behind her sister's voice, finally understanding that there will be no telling Shelby to sit down and relax until Rachel is found safe. "We'll all go together."

"No," Shelby shakes her head against the suggestion, "I'm sorry Krista but I can't go all parent patrol on her right now. I need Rachel to trust me and that is not going to happen if we all go marching up to her…"

"Then why don't we spread out?" Shelby considers the suggestion but the only reason that she does so is because she knows that her and her son are the only two people that know her clever and witty daughter well enough to know exactly where to look. "Mom and dad will stay here in case there's any news on Noah and everyone else can look around."

"Fine," She agrees but it's only to ensure her moving faster than the snail's pace she seems to be crawling now. This time, when Shelby takes off down the length of the hallway, nobody bothers trying to stop her.

She _has_ to find Rachel… She just has to.

It has been several years since that scared little girl had learned to seek shelter inside of an upstairs linen closet yet still the implications surrounding her hideouts have always remained the same.

Rachel has an uncanny and oftentimes dangerous obsession with making solitude her best friend. As Shelby races up and down the hallways of the maze that is Lima Memorial's emergency unit, her eyes flash with the memories of the last time that Rachel had sent her on a panicked spiral such as this; the day of her diagnosis, when she had somehow found access to the service elevator that had brought her up to the rooftop where she'd remained until Noah had eventually found her.

But Rachel would not be on the roof, not tonight anyway. Tonight, Shelby knows, she would want to remain close; keeping her ears out for news, her eyes open for signs of her brother…

Her daughter, like herself found salvation in the solitude of her agony… At the same time, knowing the exact blueprint of Lima Memorial at this point did not hurt either.

Shelby's eyes scan quickly across the various windows that adorn mostly empty exam rooms, struck with a quick sense of irony towards the idea that her and Rachel could have just been side by side in their complete and utter loss of control and she wouldn't have even noticed.

The east wing has been undergoing a complete construction job for months. The entranceway is deserted, blocked off with a thick, plastic wall that if you squint, you can still just barely see through.

The area is abandoned; an utter ghost town. Shelby slips beneath the flimsy barrier with ease knowing full well that Rachel could have done so just as simply.

It seems immediately obvious. Rachel could have never made it very far in her planned endeavors exposed to the open; her fragile state being much too obvious coupled with the idea of just how many people were out looking for her. Shelby knows that her daughter is not a stupid girl. Rachel would have considered this; she would have known that anything less would ensure her journey to be over practically before it had even started.

Shelby knows her daughter well enough to know where she would retreat upon being questioned by the ER reception, mere feet away… Hell, her plan could have gone completely undetected had her absence from intensive care not been so damn obvious.

The dinging of an elevator has Shelby jumping through the otherwise silence. She looks to her immediate left and instantly recognizes the blue markings standing out prominently against the elevator doors besides her as the lift that the janitorial staff uses to shuffle soiled linens from the various wards downstairs to the basement laundry. The same one that is directly adjacent to Rachel's ICU room.

They might as well have hand delivered Rachel a car for her to drive here in.

Shelby is certain that she is not far. Rachel couldn't have walked more than a handful of feet without growing weary. Just this afternoon she had barely even had the strength to get out of her bed to go to the bathroom. The reminder that Rachel had asked the nurses to lower her morphine dosage as to keep her from feeling to cloudy and potentially missing a beat of Noah's football game smacks Shelby with the realization of how it was that Rachel had managed to make it down to the ER at all.

Even still, Rachel was a ferociously determined girl, just like her mother. If she needed to _crawl_ here from the ICU, Shelby is certain that she would.

She briefly wonders whether or not she did.

"Oh my God, Rachel…" Her motions around the corner are otherwise silent; that is until her mouth processes the sudden appearance of her daughter before any other part of her does. The words are already far escaped from beyond her lips well before her pupils constrict with focus, her heart swelling with a relief that has her brain immediately scrambling with the desire to search her daughter from head to toe, to locate any harm and to fix it immediately.

"Mom…" Her head tilts upwards from its previous position cradled in between her knees as she sits atop what looks to Shelby, to be an air conditioning unit yet to be installed. Shelby stares inside of her daughter's waterlogged eyes and understands immediately what it is that is going on inside of the girl's head.

"Oh, thank God…" Shelby powers her way forward with the propulsion of a heavy exhale. Her legs immediately begin to march on their own accord, moving faster and faster until finally, she is where she belongs at her daughter's side, seating herself up and besides the girl where she pulls Rachel willingly into her body, making the silent agreement with herself to never ever let go again. "Come here honey. It's okay… you're okay now."

Shelby is livid. Emphasized by her exhaustion, she is angrier than she has ever felt in her entire life, but even this anger cannot overpower the relief that seeps inside of her pores alongside the idea of her daughter being found safe.

Shelby pushes aside her disappointment as she allows for Rachel to crawl further inside of her arms as if she were small all over again. Mother and daughter pretend easily that the fit is just as perfect as it had been when the girl was a mere child as Rachel presses her face even further inside of Shelby's shoulder.

It takes a second or two for Rachel's back to finally begin to heave, for Shelby to feel the cool moistness of tears as they seep through her thin shirt. The second that this does happen, Shelby can only wish that she could go back to a time when simply just by holding her, she can make Rachel believe that everything was going to be okay; even when it was a blatant lie.

"Is Noah okay?" Rachel hiccups through her tears. Shelby can feel her breaths hitching inside of her lungs from beneath her own arms, wrapped protectively about her daughter's body; when Rachel does finally look upwards and towards her mother, her eyes are filled with tears; blood shot with a combination of panic and distress.

Shelby wants to tell her to calm down. She wants to force her to relax and withhold answers until Rachel has done so, but she knows that anything of the sort would be nothing short of hypocritical. Rachel will not calm until she knows that her brother is okay; just like Shelby herself had done.

"He's going to be okay, honey." Shelby assures her daughter; her hand rubbing soothing circles against her upper back as Rachel's breathing relaxes into short, suffocating gasps.

"I want to go see him…" She manages to express her desires through her diminishing, gasping sobs but chooses not to wait for a response. Using her crowded IV pole as leverage, Rachel pulls herself up and onto her feet using slow and tip toeing movements…

Shelby's immediate reaction to Rachel's second bid for freedom this night alone is delayed the second that she catches the full image of her daughter for the first time, allowing her to realize just how desperate Rachel must have been to have made this grueling journey in such a desperate state.

The truth is that Rachel has not changed much since Shelby had last seen her inside of a hospital bed, and in her briefest of glimpses, she can't help but to wonder how it was possible that Rachel had made it this far without her diminishing health interfering.

Her traditional navy cap makes the dual effort of both concealing her bald head as well as simultaneously emphasizing the pale skin that rests beneath it. Dark circles border heavily beneath her eyes to the point that it almost appears as though she has been in a fist fight. A loose fitting tank top exposes the central line that connects Rachel to the metal pole that she clings to while a pair of sweat pants that had been too large for her _before_ she had begun chemotherapy practically fall off of her miniscule waist line.

Shelby could still remember a time that Rachel had barely allowed herself to look like this inside of the comforts of her own home let alone in public. It is a sign of Rachel's desperation for answers, the means by which she had wandered downstairs into the busy emergency room today.

"Rachel stop!" Shelby regains her bearings quickly, her voice raising as she tries to mask her fear towards Rachel's clear disregard for her own well being with an aggressive order. Rachel attempts to defy her mother's orders, attempts to continue in her motions but she is in no state to escape the distraught mother's clutches; Rachel has barely taken a step forwards before Shelby's hands are latched onto her shoulders. She practically drags the girl back down into her previous seat; Rachel collapses besides her immediately. "Come over here and sit down, please! Noah is having a cat scan right now anyway you won't be able to see him. The doctor says that he will be okay, I promise. He has a small concussion but he is going to be okay."

"I was watching the game on TV…" Rachel's mind is swirling at a mile a minute in her attempts to offer an explanation. Shelby can feel her shuddering beneath her touch, she can practically hear as the gears churn inside of her cluttered head. "The guy on the TV said that Noah was probably going be brought here. I tried to call your cell phone but you wouldn't answer so I… I…"

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe now Rachel, it's okay…" Shelby accepts Rachel's telling of her story as the idea of just how they had gotten here becomes immediately apparent… Is she pleased that her desperately ill daughter had snuck away from her hospital room, venturing into not only an emergency room but an active construction site as well where she could have caught God knows what that could have made her predicament even worse? No. Does she understand _why_ it was that Rachel did it? Yes.

"Look at me Rachel, are you hurt at all?" Shelby asks the obligatory question, her fingers brushing gently beneath Rachel's chin so that Rachel is forced to look her directly in the eye. So that lying to her would be _that_ much more difficult. She has to be certain. Shelby has to be absolutely certain that Rachel was okay. "Do you feel tired or dizzy? Does anything hurt you; anything at all?"

"I'm fine…" Rachel insists, pushing herself away from her mother's touch, embarking upon a second attempt to get to her feet as if only to emphasize this idea. "I just wanna see Noah…"

"We can go see him in a little while, Rach…" Shelby reminds her daughter, whose impatience only rivals her mother's own. In reality, Shelby is struggling with the wait that is lingering between her and her son just as much as her daughter is.

"Promise?" Rachel's eyes are wide; they're full of a desperation that makes her transform into a child all over again directly before Shelby's eyes… She allows herself to become absorbed inside of them for just a brief second before nodding her head; a short, yet confident response.

"I promise," Shelby climbs to her feet, clutching onto Rachel's upper arms with either hand as she guides her forward, simultaneously taking over in the responsibility of dragging Rachel's IV pole close behind her, "Now come on, if you want to see Noah, you'll follow my rules. Besides, we need to call of the dogs before they decide to bring in national security. They've got just about this entire hospital looking for you… again."

Shelby gets her daughter to settle inside of a wheelchair with a surprising ease. Her ever increasing weakness combined with her willingness to do absolutely anything that will grant her access to see her brother making Shelby's task a simple one.

She takes the long way back towards the waiting room. Her feet move subconsciously slower and slower as she creates a white knuckled grip against the handles of the wheelchair that her daughter is seated inside of.

Rachel is silent in front of her. Shelby is positive that she has recognized her mother's attempts towards pulling out every possible minute of their walk in an effort to avoid a possibly awkward interaction with those who are diligently awaiting their return outside, but she makes her face professionally blank and Shelby cannot read her silence from her position behind her.

She counts whatever blessings that she can when a nurse intercepts the duo before Shelby can bring her daughter back inside of the open season that is the ER waiting room… The last thing that Rachel needs is to be swarmed right now.

It is the last thing that any of them needs.

"Mrs. Corcoran?" She approaches Shelby with a cautious uncertainty, her eyebrows rising with the curiosity as to whether or not this woman; with tears in her eyes and toting about a cancer-stricken child is the woman that she had been unfortunate enough to have been chosen to retrieve.

"Yes…" Shelby nods confidently in her answer, trying to ignore the nurse's motions as her eyes relax with sympathy, darting back and forth between Rachel and Shelby… The understandably cautious mother slips strategically in front of her daughter, trying desperately to keep her out of the reach of any more prying eyes than what she has already experienced.

"Your son is settled inside of a room…" Shelby's body relaxes with a pronounced ease, the nurse's insensitivity immediately redeemed by her perfect sense of timing, "I can take you upstairs if you would like to go and see him…"

Shelby's reaction is immediate. The second that her affirmative response towards the question has been emitted from beyond her lips, she is moving in double time. The old wheelchair creeks beneath the strain of its racing driver, its wheels practically burning with the dangerous friction that it produces with the tile floor as she practically forces her unsuspecting nurse companion into a full sprint towards the elevators.

Shelby knows that she should instead be making the pit stop back outside towards the waiting room. She knows that she should be informing concerned family and friends that Noah is safe inside of his room that Rachel has been found in the best condition that she could possibly be in at the moment, but right now her priorities are solely focused on her children.

She is certain that nobody would be expecting anything less.

When they do finally get upstairs and outside of Noah's room, Shelby is certain that she's cut her travel time in half. Rachel grips the wheels of her chair, taking charge of her own control, seeing as how her mother had just steered her like a lunatic…

In her hurried excitement to get to her brother's side, Rachel propels herself forwards with all of the strength that she has left inside of her body… Despite all of Shelby's previous warnings to keep her daughter at ease, Shelby bites her tongue against scolding Rachel in the understanding that she is just about the only person on the face of this planet that wants to see Noah safe just as much as herself.

The room is littered inside of a sea of darkness. The slight glow of the television screen dangling from the ceiling is the only source of light filtering across the otherwise darkened room. Noah stares straight ahead blankly. He looks bored, restless even. Shelby cannot tell whether or not he is awake or asleep.

He doesn't notice his mother and sister lingering inside of the doorway immediately. Instead, his eyes remain glossy, unblinking… Shelby tries desperately to adhere to the reminder that the doctor had given her previously in informing her that Noah may be out of it for the next couple of days as a direct result of the blow to the head that he had sustained, but the results are surprisingly difficult.

"Noah, honey…" Shelby walks on her tiptoes, catching up to Rachel quickly, pushing her further forwards towards her son… His response is sluggish and delayed; Shelby looks inside of her son's eyes and pretends that she can use them to x-ray through his very skin, to identify what it is that is going on inside of his rattled brain, to find an immediate cause to make him better again; just as she has found herself doing so often with Rachel these days.

"Mom…" His words are forcibly hushed as he attempts to pull himself back together for the sake of his family. He lifts himself using his forearms but immediately falls right back down onto his back, exhausted from such a grueling and exhausting day.

"How are you feeling honey?" She's gentle in the reminder that he does not need to try to impress them, her hand swiping securely across the top of his head, the bristles of his buzzed hair scratching against her palm. Subconsciously, Noah leans even further inside of her touch.

"I'll be okay." He promises as he straightens himself up in an attempt to look tougher, stronger from inside of his hospital bed. He is silent in regards to his instinctive request for his mother not to leave his side, but Shelby picks up on the motion anyway.

"Noah… I was so worried about you." Mother and son are interrupted in Rachel's own means of reminding her family that they are not the only ones inside of this room. Stimulated by the physical proof that her brother has not been rendered a vegetable from his injury, Rachel springs to her feet and throws herself forwards into Noah, wrapping her arms about the back of his neck and squeezing tightly. The motion throws Noah off only briefly before he manages to pull himself together long enough to wrap a single arm around Rachel's upper back in his reciprocation of the affection.

"Sorry Rach…" He offers his slow apologies, pulling away from his sister in an effort to offer her his infamous grin, as if to assure her without reasonable doubt that he was going to be fine.

Shelby swallows the urge to reprimand Rachel in the reminder of the lecture that she had already given the girl; the stipulations of allowing her to visit Noah before her inevitable return to intensive care being that she needs to remain calm, that she can't afford to get herself any more worked up than what she already is. She decides to give Rachel this moment, for now at least, because she knows that Rachel needs it… They all need to learn to relish upon what little good news they ever do receive.

"What did you have to do to convince mom to bring you down here?" Noah settles against his bed once more. Shelby recognizes the slight grimace of pain in response to Rachel's sudden attack and she is certain that Rachel does as well; the girl after all, was an expert at concealing her discomfort. She silently indicates that it is okay for Noah to admit when he is not feeling well by retreading back inside of the safety of her own chair, suddenly fidgety as she attempts to concoct a quick lie in response to Noah's question.

The boy cocks an eyebrow the second that Rachel lingers in her quiet for just a second or two too long… He is a smart kid; smart enough to know that there must be a catch in the story of how they had gotten from there to here somewhere.

"Um, well I kind of… uh… ran away…" She chokes slightly in her truthfulness; Noah's face immediately brightening in a smile of pure amazement.

"From intensive care…" Noah questions in his disbelief. His expression gleams alongside the proof that he and Rachel truly must have come from the same place after all in their tendency towards devious antics. It is almost worth all of the hassle that Shelby had to go through to make it here; _almost_. Shelby bites back the urge to inform her son of just how much a nervous wreck he would have been should he been on the receiving end of this news while Rachel was still missing. "Wow Rachel, I didn't think you had it in you… Welcome to the dark side, I guess."

Rachel blushes instantly, her ears perking with gratitude towards what she has clearly taken as a compliment… Shelby clears her throat loudly and purposefully as to indicate that she does not think this situation nearly as funny as her children apparently do. Their shoulders sink in the recognition of the noise, but Shelby does not pursue. She understands. She understands that ever since she was a child, Rachel had always wanted in her own sense to be different; and of course in her own way, she was. But at the same time, there was still that piece inside of her that always wanted to do whatever it was that her brother was doing.

Always.

"Are you really gonna be okay, Noah?" Rachel's voice shudders, dropping to barely above a whisper as she finally gathers the courage that she needs to ask the question that she so desperately needs the answer to.

"I'm gonna be fine, Rach." Noah emphasizes alongside a profound nod that Shelby is certain has his head swarming, although he covers it expertly as Rachel's eyes well up with tears once more. "No really Rachel, I just got whacked in the head, it takes more than that to bring me down… You know how thick a skull I got."

Rachel tries to laugh at Noah's attempt at a joke, but in combination with her tears, the noise sounds like nothing more than a harsh, choking sob. Noah stiffens; Shelby watches as he scrambles desperately for a means to calm his sister down. Shelby can only hope that he can succeed as he struggles to produce an explanation at a fast enough rate to keep up with Rachel's falling tears.

"Listen Rachel, I just got knocked out for a minute is all… I freaked everybody out without needing to. I'm okay, really." Shelby knows that he is downplaying. To say that he got knocked out for just a _minute_ or that he merely _freaked_ half the town out is a significant understatement. But Shelby keeps her mouth shut for fear of the repercussions that a correction may cause. "But really, there's no need for you to be running around like a crazy person when you should be focusing on keeping yourself healthy."

"I just don't wanna lose you, Noah." Noah is taken aback briefly by her response. He produces a heavy sigh, his glossy eyes turning upwards to meet his sister's as he attempts to contort them into a neutral expression, silently hoping that Rachel can't see his perceived weakness inside of his face although Shelby can read it loud and clear – that he cannot stand the thought of losing her either.

Shelby hides her face inside of the palm of her hand, turning away from her children and towards the adjacent wall… As much as Noah does not want Rachel to read the fear inside of his eyes, the desperation that Shelby has to not allow either of her children to see what losing them would do to her doesn't even come close.

It takes several hushed moments for Shelby to regain her composure, and when she finally does, she chooses to watch them, her lips forcing themselves upwards for the first time all night as she watches her two kids interact and embraces just how lucky that she has gotten with the pair of them, whose unconditional love for each other rivals even that by which she herself feels for each of them.

But this notion of joy does not last long. Eventually, her eyes darken with the reminder of just how much they had already been through, how they had grown to become the way that they are today… Most days, it seems as if it were only yesterday that Rachel had been a mere toddler, stuck inside of a hospital bed, fresh off of a diagnosis that her mother could barely understand, let alone herself; a diagnosis that had had Shelby struggling in her wonderment towards how she was expected to explain to her children, the ways of the world without frightening them to death.

The only thing that she could possibly do is close her eyes and pray to God that should faith fail them, then maybe at least hope would be able to see them through the rest of the way.

Sometimes it seems as though they had come so far since then. Other days it doesn't.

"Mom!" Rachel shouts to Shelby in an aggressive manner that lets the mother know that this is not the first time that her daughter has called to her, that she had foolishly allowed herself to zone out and that in her daze, she had missed something…

"What is it, honey?" Shelby shakes her head back into a conscious reality, trying to act cool as she blinks against the image of Rachel and Noah staring at her with a wide-eyed confusion towards why their normally acute mother was suddenly acting so strange.

"Can I stay here with you and Noah tonight?" She asks quickly, strategically placing no spaces between her words so that her method on confusing Shelby into agreement damn near works. "Please…" Rachel's eyes slant; she's trying to play that desperate, pathetic cancer patient card in an effort to give Shelby no choice other than to say yes.

She does this, because she already knows what Shelby's answer is going to be before she's so much as opened her mouth.

"No, Rachel." Shelby slips easily through Rachel's careful decoys without hesitation. Her answer is immediate and final. She doesn't care if Rachel argues with her until she is blue in the face; Shelby knows that she has already been more than generous with her daughter in granting her enough amnesty outside of intensive care than what she knows is safe.

Shelby is not willing to make any more exceptions. It is something that she simply just cannot risk.

"But mom…" As expected, Rachel puts up an immediate argument; an argument that Shelby is more than prepared for.

"Rachel, it's okay, I'll probably be sprung out of this place by tomorrow morning anyway." Noah intervenes before Shelby can yell, and the mother is grateful for the intervention, grateful for his attempts to continuously downplay the situation for the sake of being helpful in the understanding of just how stubborn Rachel can be when she wants to. "Trust me you need this way more than I do anyway." Noah indicates towards his cramped quarters, the nurses shuffling back and forth past his open doorway, the machines and immediately, Rachel's eyes fall downwards towards her hands resting inside of her lap in the acknowledgment that he is right.

"I guess I just prefer being on this side of things for a change is all…" Her confession is remarkably less pronounced. Rachel has fallen quiet and uncertain, leaving her family fidgeting uncomfortably with the idea that although they all know just how much Rachel deserves a break right about now, current circumstance has made this a luxury that they simply cannot afford.

"Come on Rachel," Shelby nods her head towards the direction of the doorway, taking several slow steps forward as if to silently indicate to her daughter that it is time to leave. "Noah is going to be released in the morning anyway and besides, we have to get you back upstairs to your room pronto… You're still _missing_ after all, you know."

Rachel responds with a hiccup that Shelby takes as an affirmative response.

"Noah, will you be okay here by yourself for a couple of minutes?" Shelby tries not to linger alongside the understanding that the longer she stalls in her own uncertainties, the easier it will be for Rachel to guilt trip her into staying the night with her brother. "I'm gonna go take Rachel back upstairs to her room and help get her settled in… Who knows what the mess that I'll have to deal with security is going to be, but I'll try to get back down here to check up on you as fast as I can… I'll switch off between the two of you tonight, okay?"

"You don't have to…" Noah waves off Shelby's verbal preparations for the long, sleepless night that she has already accepted is bound to happen today. "I'll be okay on my own tonight mom, really… I promise not to go A.W.O.L. like Rachel did either."

"Hey, it's okay you know…" Shelby shakes her head slightly towards Noah's attempts at being funny alongside the understanding that she was not quite ready to make a running joke out of tonight's series of events quite yet. "I'll be back in a little while." Shelby emphasizes her guarantee that she will be returning to him in a manner that allows him to continue in his façade of strength in her insistencies that her unwillingness to allow her son to stay in the hospital overnight by himself was her idea and hers alone.

This seemed to be a running theme between Shelby and Noah. Growing up, Shelby had always felt as though Noah had spent his childhood taking the backseat to Rachel's continuous needs…

Of course, Noah had and although the transformation had not been swift or particularly smooth, one day, Shelby had woken up one not so special morning only to find a son that was no longer her son. Instead, the child that had replaced him was angry, bitter towards the years that he had been virtually ignored by those that were supposed to love him the most. And just as it had taken a lot to turn Noah into the person that he was, it had also taken a lot to change him back into the person that he is as well…

Going back to that way that things were simply was not an option for them. Shelby is certain that she would not be able to twice survive having a son that despised his mother for ignoring him, hated his father for abandoning him, and resented his sister for causing it all.

Her kids weren't kids anymore. This family was no longer the stereotypical dog, white picket fence, and 2.3 children poster boy for perfection that they used to be. Things have undoubtedly changed. They have changed swiftly and profoundly.

Going back was no longer a viable option.

"Alright," Noah nods appreciatively in his understanding towards what it is that his mother is trying to do and he embraces it, making it subtle yet at the same time obvious, the idea of just how much it means to him.

Shelby smiles in her return just as the clouds open up outside, leaving the moon seeping through the blinds before them, drenching the small family unit in a light that only serves as a reminder to Shelby that this will not be the first time that she has allowed the celestial entity to sleep soundly while she takes control in watching over the night…

She knows that it is impossible to predict what this darkness is going to bring to them, even harder to tell what the story behind the resulting sunlight. The stars are alive with such possibilities, clouded with the idea that she will be spending yet another evening unable to sleep and unable to dream.

"Thank you, Noah…" Shelby leans in closer towards her son, kissing the top of his forehead, just at his hairline before reaching up to knead at his shoulder in an attempt to express just how gracious she was towards the strength of her son, "Thank you for being okay."

"You're welcome." He whispers through an assuring nod, allowing Shelby's heart to relax into a dull thump for what the mother is certain is the first time in months; a comforting rhythm, a steadying pace that feels just right strumming against her ribs.

Her hand lingers against her son's warm cheek before finally retreating, clutching once more upon the handlebars of the wheelchair that her daughter has obediently already settled herself inside of.

Shelby's eyes briefly scan across the perfect trifecta that she has created between her and her two children and not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, she wonders how it is that they had ever gotten to be here, to be like this.

The closest that Shelby has ever gotten to an answer is her reasoning that it is simply a matter of testing the strong ones; the ability to love, the generosity in allowing your touch to linger against those that you care for the most at least one last time.

In theory, she can understand the concept. After all, it has been the very backbone of her family's foundation throughout all of these years of pain and agony and so many more questions than there ever were answers.

The reality of the situation however, does not allow Shelby to see why in the end, it always had to be _her_.

It is a problem that has riddled her innermost thought process for years now and still, the only logical explanation that her overworked brain has ever managed to up with is that their misfortune is simply a means of allowing their family to be one of the few who can ever truly understand just how much of a miracle that life can be.

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><p><strong>Guest - Thank you so much! Shelby has definitely been through the ringer, and the rest of them for that matter. They're a strong group though. :)<br>**

**Fberry**** – Quinn is gonna play a more prominent role soon. These last couple of chapters are going to start being a firestorm where all of the characters sort of team up together to accomplish the main goal of trying to get Rachel healthy again. I did decide not to link Quinn and Rachel romantically in this story just because I really wanted Rachel to simply have a friend that she could talk to apart from her brother. Santana kind of started becoming that for her but that will run into some problems down the line that you will see and Quinn will sort of ease her way in. Rachel is going to kind of have her heart broken by Finn and besides, she isn't really in a place where she can get into a relationship, especially one with the girl who used to torture her and school. Baby steps. :) I am planning a sequel though so I'm not going to say never for a Faberry relationship. Sorry if that was really, really long. Thanks for the review!**

**Princess-N-Xoxo**** – Thank you! I know, I know I really do feel terrible with every new hurdle I throw at them, but there will be some good news coming their way soon. Thanks for the review. **

**Hazelbutton2002**** – Trust me, mine ached while I was writing this chapter too! Thanks for the compliment! (And it did make sense :P) Hope the wait wasn't too bad, I'm planning out the last bit of this story and get a little carried away sometimes and forget to actually write haha. **

**SolemnxHypnotic**** – Wow, I'm honored really I don't even know what to say except for thank you times about a million! **

**Clara _Meliza**** – Thank you so much! Sorry to make you almost cry though :)**

**Amandaes417**** - Ooo I hope you enjoyed wherever it is that you were! Glad to have given you something to look forward to when you got back home! Haha, I know I felt bad about throwing that one out from left field, but it will be important, especially for Shelby and Noah's relationship I promise!**

**Baygirl123**** – Is that a good wow or a bad wow? Haha. Thank you either way!**

**Donna14**** – No need to apologize! Really, I'm the absolute queen of being a terrible reviewer so I understand completely. Thank you for all of your kind words! As much as I hate writing all of the bad things that happen to them, I really love to write how close it has made them. Noah and Rachel still have a long way to go, they're going to be clinging onto each other a lot in these last couple of chapters. Thanks for the review! **


	39. Shelby Corcoran  April 2001

**So apparently this didn't work the first time I tried to put it up. Sorry about that guys! It might have been my fault I'm pretty computer illiterate, I'm surprised we went this long without incident :) Anyways, sorry again let me know if you can actually see this!  
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**Anyway, sorry for the delay! The end of the summer hecticness is starting to hit me full swing. That combined with a deadly case of writer's block and I had no chance at all. Plus, football season is back so I'm sure you all remember how that goes :)**

**Anyways, I've just really been trying to meticulously plan these last couple of chapters out and as of right now, there are officially ten chapters left to go! That might change, but it will definitely be around there. Also, I'm still thinking about a sequel as well. I have an idea in mind, but we'll see what happens… **

**Thank you all as always for your amazing support!**

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><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – April 2001

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><p>She used to be certain beyond belief that there had to be some sort of cosmic rule dictated by the Gods above themselves stipulating just how much a human being will suffer before they are granted a lifetime of continuing good will and fortune.<p>

It is the reason that certain people accidentally strike oil in the middle of the desert, budding into instant millionaires following a lifetime of poverty. It is why others will survive being trapped beneath the icy surface of a lake for three hours after an otherwise life of misery…

Shelby isn't entirely certain where it was that her and her family had fallen through the cracks, but she can't say that she is entirely surprised that while there are people in this world winning the lottery and spontaneously remising from diseases that should have otherwise killed them, she is stuck here struggling to keep her daughter alive as she continues to reel from the mere experience of having just buried her husband.

It's been three weeks.

It has been three weeks and despite Shelby's previous insistencies that she not get herself caught up in grieving for months that feel like years, she is slowly starting to learn that when you do lose the love of your life, it is not something that happens all at once but instead in a sharp burst of short, shallow pieces that will take a part of you with each and every one.

It has been three weeks and still, Shelby spends every waking moment wondering how things ever could have gone so terribly wrong, wondering how her and Hiram's love for each other could have ever faded into an oblivion that almost made it seem as though it were never really there at all…

That is, until the opportunity to return it once more had gone.

She has nothing to take comfort inside of; not the desperate hope that eventually, one day things _will_ get better, nor the idea that Hiram has retreated on to a better place, one that hasn't been littered with deceit and guaranteed heartbreak… She cannot think about that, not when she is stuck down here in this living hell.

She reasons that maybe, it will simply be better to never find out the answers at all.

"Shelby…" She has been so absorbed in her desperate bid for reason, for an opportunity to trade in the rest of her life just to hear the sound of her name lingering against his lips one more time that when she actually does hear the short, single word her heart leaps into her throat, pulse pounding inside of her ears as her wide, acute eyes snap upwards and almost expect to meet with the dark chocolate ones of her husband.

"Shelby, are you okay?" The deep, resounding voice of her husband that she has only perceived to be true fades into a high pitched inquiry from her daughter's nurse as the woman prepares to inject a cleaning heparin solution into the port of Rachel's central line.

"Hmm?" The incoherent mumble slips subconsciously out from beyond Shelby's lips, her eyes darting back and forth rapidly between the nurse and her daughter, seated limply against a chair twice the size of herself face empty and devoid of any reaction towards the unusual behavior of her mother. Shelby shakes her head quickly against her confusion, overcoming the sensation quickly before swallowing the truth and placing the most convincing look possible upon her face. "Yeah I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying that as soon as I flush Rachel's central line, you are free to take her home." The nurse repeats herself uncertainly as she moves through the motions, gathering the tubing attached inside of Rachel's frail chest with one hand while preparing a syringe in the second. She is generous enough not to mention the obvious in terms of Shelby's appearance.

"Oh, okay…" Shelby plasters a smile on her face, nodding her head with perhaps a little bit too much vigor to be entirely believable as she rambles in her dishonest excitement towards Rachel's homecoming… It's not as though she isn't ecstatic that Rachel is finally healthy enough to be trusted in her own care, it's just that this is the first time that Rachel will be out of the continuous sight of a perceptive medical team since her brush with death in February… Understandably, Shelby is a nervous wreck. "That's good, that's great… Thank you."

"Are you sure you're okay?" The woman before her raises an understandably curious eyebrow. It almost wants to make her lunge at the innocent woman, grab onto the collar of her scrubs and shake her until she was blue in the face as Shelby asked her what the hell did she think, in response.

Was she okay?

What kind of stupid question was that? It isn't after all, exactly a secret, her family's current predicament.

Her daughter is preparing to move out of the rehabilitation center that she has called home the last two months to recuperate at home before beginning preparations for the stem cell transplant that will ultimately save her life; high intensity chemotherapy and radiation for the next month.

Her son is being pumped continuously with growth hormones in order to boost his stem cells; cells that will inevitably be taken from him in order to be placed inside of his sister's body. He hated it. He hated every second of it, and he hated her even more with every second that he had to spend inside of a hospital.

Her husband… Well her husband was dead. He is never coming back and for the first time, the most difficult time in her entire life she was all alone.

She is far from okay. In fact, she is more than certain that she will never be okay again for as long as she lives.

"Better than ever."

She had cleaned out all of his belongings within the week. His clothes were dumped inside of donation boxes all across Lima, all of his certifications mounted on the wall, knick knacks and toiletries thrown away. Every portrait of him that she had inside of the house had been flipped to turn backwards, his mere image too painful for her to look at these days. His study was nothing more an empty room in the house these days. Shelby didn't even keep the carpet.

Lately, she has learned to measure the days with a meticulous attention. She hasn't kept track of something this closely since Noah was born and she'd spent the first two years of his life informing people of his age down to the last hour… She had stopped this practice only upon the realization that she did not want her son growing up nearly as quickly as her words might have suggested.

So much that did.

Grief, it tended to be an unusual emotion, especially when coming so unexpectedly. She had been so busy in preparing for the worst in regards to Rachel's outcome that when somebody else had instead gone first, it hit her like a blow to the head.

She is still struggling to find her footing again.

She flips through a pile of hospital bills from inside of her chair simply to keep her hands busy as she waits for the nurse to finish up with Rachel so that she may return her daughter to a house that feels much too big for any of them now that there is one less person inside of it.

Hiram may have thought himself to be helping everybody on the day that he had chosen to end his life, but in the end, nobody was benefiting. Access to the majority of his health insurance policy had been made increasingly difficult, the amount of debt accumulating over the course of Rachel's treatments going nowhere but up.

Every time she saw the number of a bill collector popping up across the screen of her cell phone she would cringe, biting back against the reminder that this conversation was not going to be a pleasant one.

These people were incessant in their harshness, their greedy demeanor and the manner by which they don't give a shit about the nature of your predicament so long as they can hold onto every single dollar that they can make off of you.

They spoke to Shelby of her husband's _suicide_ as casually as they might have spoken about picking flowers in the backyard. She is certain that they are doing it simply to make her blood boil and as much as she tries to remain calm simply for the sake of spite, this is a task that has proven to be much easier said than done.

Her parents are helpful, both financially and supportively, their committing to the move from New Jersey to Lima making it increasingly easier simply just to have somebody to be with Noah while she was with Rachel or vice versa. Hell, even her brother, who is always rather trying to one up her by some means or another, is contributing at the beck and call of their younger sister to her financial dilemma.

The day that she had received a letter from the state of Ohio informing her that becoming a widow has officially qualified her for aid from the state was singlehandedly the most embarrassing experience of her life. The idea alone is painful, Shelby has since remained defiant in her reluctance, but she has found herself running out of room to do so.

"Okay Rachel, you are all set to go." Shelby's attention is brought back to the task at hand the second that the nurse elevates her voice in order to indicate to the general population of the room before her that Rachel is finally ready to be sent home.

Shelby watches the woman latch her hands beneath Rachel's armpits, lifting her daughter with ease into the air before carrying her towards Shelby… The mother's eyes lock downward upon the limp girl; mouth turned downwards into a permanent frown as she rests like deadweight inside of this stranger's arms. She forces a smile upon her face in an attempt to force Rachel to reciprocate the action, but she never does.

Shelby's heart immediately aches for the child that is no longer the one that she used to know.

"Here you go honey…" The nurse carefully passes Rachel along into Shelby's already outstretched arms, the mother pulling her daughter tightly against her chest in a natural motion as she begins to rock gently against her own two feet, trying to instill a sense of comfort into the emotionless girl, whose face, Shelby no longer had the ability to read. "You'll just need to sign a few papers at the front desk Shelby, than Rachel here will be all free to go."

"Of course…" Shelby nods her head absently. The woman that stands before her is young, unusually bubbly. Fresh out of college, she has yet to allow the emotional pressures of her job to harden her emotions into cement. Shelby wishes that she could say the same for herself and her children.

"I'll see you outside then." She offers a bright smile that doesn't resonate well with anything that Shelby is currently feeling on the inside before turning from the room, leaving Shelby to balance her daughter expertly against her hip as she picks at the small remainder of Rachel's belongings littered about the room to pack away.

"Yeah…" Shelby breathes, but by the time she finally manages to get the words out, the nurse is already gone, "I'll see you outside."

_Outside_… the word alone terrifies her, although not nearly as much as she knows it terrifies her daughter. After spending the large majority of the last four months cramped inside of one hospital after another, Shelby knows that Rachel has learned to fear what is waiting for her out there, much more than in here.

This has become their familiar, their new normal.

"Are you ready to go home, Rachel?" Shelby suppresses her own fears for the sake of her daughter as she turns downward to stare at the child, who responds simply by wrapping her arms tighter about the back of Shelby's neck, pressing her head deep into her mother's shoulder so that Shelby can feel the cool skin of Rachel's bare scalp against her neck.

Shelby takes the small bob of Rachel's head against her shoulder as a personal victory. Rachel has been less than perceptive to human interaction these days, Hiram's death having since placed her long term recovery on the backburner… It had upset her so much, understandably so, but in her distress, she has grown terrified and in her terror, Shelby's normally eccentric, outgoing daughter has grown distant and introverted.

Now, more than ever before Shelby wishes that she could take this pain away from her little girl. She was far too young to be forced to consider such a fear. She shouldn't have to deal with this. None of them should.

The blood rages inside of Shelby's veins at the mere thought. It made her angry to an extent that she almost feared. It made Shelby so much more impossibly angry at Hiram than what she already was for leaving _her_, for leaving her _children_ alone to deal with this that on most days, not even she is certain how it is that she manages to keep her composure.

She can only assume that her newly developed system of perpetrating her ideals of single motherhood by allowing her anger towards her late husband to burn into taking care of her children is working… for now.

"Do you feel okay, baby?" Shelby bounces the girl gently against her hip, not too strong, yet not so gently either; the perfect medium that Shelby has since found Rachel always enjoyed when she wasn't feeling particularly well yet at the same time, didn't want to be made sicker.

"How much longer do I have to be sick, momma?" Shelby freezes instantaneously. The question catches her so off guard that she damn near allows Rachel to slip right out of her hands.

"Honey, I…" Shelby shakes her head slowly, stuttering impossibly in her inability to produce an answer. She has absolutely no idea what to say, how to respond to such bluntness from her four year old, far too young to understand that her perception of her mother as the infinite keeper of all answers, isn't entirely accurate this time around.

"Because I'm ready to be better momma, really… I promise, I'll be a good girl forever… for even longer than that! I'll do anything, please make it go away…" Rachel identifies her mother's hesitation immediately, falsely interpreting her inability to answer as a strategy in withholding information from Rachel that the girl may not want to hear… Her four year old bargains with her with a masterful ease; Shelby envisions an older version of her toddler standing beneath the lights of her first Broadway audition, successfully arguing her case as to why she deserves her role more than any other.

Shelby pushes the painful image from her mind just as quickly as it has arrived and holds onto her daughter, still so small that she could wrap her arms around her body twice over if she so wanted… She is in absolutely no hurry for the future.

Especially a future as uncertain as Rachel's.

"Rachel, I…" Shelby chokes slightly on Rachel's involuntary means of making this situation even more difficult than what it already has to be. She forces her tears back inside of her eyes with the realization that Rachel's attentive obedience during her discharge procedures was based on a distinct belief that something as simple as good behavior might be enough to cure her. Shelby can only wish. "I'm sorry baby, I know that I'm supposed to have all of the answers for you but I don't know how much longer you have to feel sick like this… But I need you to listen to me Rachel, it's very important that you know that you are not sick because you were bad. Nothing that you ever did is what made you sick. Things like this… they just happen sometimes sweetie, and nobody really knows why and I'm so, so sorry that it had to happen to you… You're a very brave girl, Rachel. You're so brave and you're so strong… You know how proud I am of you, right?"

"I don't want to do it anymore…" She blatantly ignores her mother's question, Shelby catching her eyes as they quickly fill with tears before turning away as if even she can understand the depth of what it is that she is saying as well as just how much it will upset her mother.

Shelby takes the opportunity of being out of her daughter's watchful eye to regulate her breathing, committing to slow, concentrated breaths as she swallows against Rachel's comments – so seemingly far out of left field – and attempts desperately to silence the sob that is currently forming against the center of her throat.

"Rachel, I know that this is hard, believe me I know…" Shelby's breaths are heavy as she pants between every syllable, attempting desperately to ease into a response as to give her more time to think about what it is that she is going to say. "I know that the medicine that you have to take makes you feel yucky and tired, but Rachel you have to keep taking it so that you can get better again, okay?"

"Why?" Her eyes raise upwards once more and when they do, they're dry. It is such an innocent question, such a common phrase that Shelby has grown so used to in raising two young children who always seem to need further explanation for _everything_… Rachel could never possibly grasp the magnitude of what this single word means for Shelby today; why it is that she will never look at it in the same way ever again.

_Why_…

It is such a simple word, yet used in the right context, packs a heated punch that nails Shelby straight in the gut with the reminder that she knows no more than her four year old does.

"Because if you don't then you will only get sicker," She is vague. Shelby is purposefully vague in her avoidance of a straight answer indicative of an end that both Shelby as well as Rachel know will happen should Rachel stop receiving her treatments right now.

"Like daddy?"

Shelby swallows her own words immediately, cursing herself for the terrible manner in which she's phrased her answer. She can feel herself slowly scarring her own daughter, terrifying her in her vagueness by using words and phrases that linked Rachel's predicament with the manner by which she'd described Hiram's only weeks ago.

"No honey," Shelby shakes her head with a distinct purpose, "Your daddy… Your daddy was sick in a very different way than you are. He was sick inside of his brain, and that's what made him do what he did. He… he had very sad thoughts that made it seem to him like he had no other choice. You… you're sick in a way that without your medicine, you will get sicker like… like the way that you feel after a long day of chemotherapy, or after you have your spinal taps or bone marrow aspirations, except without medicine, it won't go away, it will only get worse and worse…"

"Okay…" Rachel submits with an eerie ease, her confidence in expressing her defiance against further treatment in the first place gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

"It won't be very long now Rachel…" Shelby offers the promise that she knows she cannot commit to, holding the girl closer into her chest, praying to God that this will not end up being a lie. She cannot stand losing Rachel's trust like that. "Soon you will be healthy again, and then you can go back to school and to dance class, and you can go out and play with your friends again… soon, Rachel; very soon."

Rachel nods her head slowly against Shelby's chest. It is a gentle move that the woman barely notices beyond the soft rustle of fabric against her body. She pretends not to notice the moistness that builds beneath the fabric and onto her skin, stemming from underneath Rachel's eyes.

She doesn't believe her.

Her four year old child, who trusts Shelby to tell her when it's safe to cross the street, and which procedures will hurt more than the others does not believe her when she tells her that one day, everything is going to be better than this.

With a pang of regret that radiates painfully across Shelby's chest, it's all she can do to stop herself from thinking back to a time not so long ago when her word was gold to her daughter. These days, after everything that Shelby has put Rachel through, it clearly does not mean much of anything anymore.

* * *

><p><em>It doesn't take them very long to eat every last crumb of food left inside of the house.<em>

_It has been over two weeks yet still, going through the motions these days has proven to be difficult with Hiram out of the house and contact between husband and wife left at a bare minimum. For Shelby to simply wake up and carry herself through a regular day seems downright impossible, forget with all of the extenuating circumstances tacked onto Shelby's already loaded baggage. _

_ It was only after Noah had informed her early this morning that she had forgotten to make his lunch for school that she had realized that she had nothing to make his lunch with. Shelby had been forced to send Noah on his way with twenty dollars of lunch money that Shelby knows she will never see the change for, leaving her with a hint of guilt and the realization that she has not been grocery shopping in days._

_Still, it takes her the majority of the day to find the strength to pull herself up to her feet and go to the store._

_Even now, she rushes through her motions, shrinking in her unfamiliarity towards the public eye, the lingering burden of social interaction that she no longer knows how to commit to as she throws a random assortment of essentials into her cart. _

_ At every turn she tells herself that she is finished thinking about him, that she is done reminding herself what it was that he had put them through, that she is through with torturing herself by questioning why she's never noticed it before…_

_ But when you love somebody, Shelby has learned, there is a distinct means by which you learn to read the other in the most distinct, meaningful and intimate way possible, eliminating every one of their flaws from the visible layer of skin below. It is in the pattern by which your bodies come together, the choreography in every touch or each passionate kiss. _

_It is a routine that she has grown so accustomed to that when the second half of her whole has betrayed her in such a manner as Hiram has done, it hurts that much more._

_When her cell phone goes off, it echoes like a gunshot across the center of the aisle. She is balancing two gallons of milk precariously between her hands, simultaneously working to squeeze her phone between her shoulder and her ear._

_ "Hello?" Her casual greeting is met with utter chaos. She can hear the familiar wail of sirens in the background, people shouting out orders from every which direction near and far. Pounding with a painful resolution directly inside of her eardrums, Shelby can hear a handful of distinct, choked sobs as if whoever it is that is trying to speak with her is struggling to find her words in between her tears. _

_ "Shelby…" Her own name is choked out through the struggle. The second that Shelby recognizes her sister's voice she freezes, her heart constricting with fear so that even if she wanted to move, she would never be able to. _

_ Something happened. And by the sounds of it, it is not good. _

_Rachel…_

"_Krista, what is it?" Her voice shakes and elevates in her rising panic. Within the proximity of her cart, heads turn quickly towards her general direction, registering Shelby's alarm before turning away tenser than before as if grief was a contagious emotion that they were afraid of catching._

_ "Shelby, you need to come home right now." Her voice is barely above a whisper as she struggles to contain herself through her tears; Shelby easily identifies this rarely successful method of subtlety, having since become an expert on it._

_ "What happened, Krista?" Her voice grows in volume, forcing the number of heads turning towards her direction to increase expertly. She can't seem to find the energy to bring herself to care. She is already halfway up the aisle and out the door, almost grateful that Krista is strategically withholding information for her as her frantic confusion does not seem to be allowing any room for a complete and total public breakdown._

_ "Just come home Shelby…" She leaves the full shopping cart at her back, the two gallons of milk still clutched between white knuckles gradually slipping from her hands before crashing to the ground, their thick, liquid contents seeping out and onto the tile floor below. "Please."_

_She can see the sirens from down the block. _

_Her heart constricts in her chest with each additional ambulance and police car that flies past her car as she parks as close to her own home as she possibly can; about a quarter of a mile away. With exercise being remarkably low on her priority scale since Rachel's diagnosis, Shelby finds herself sucking wind by the time she finds herself having to doge curious neighbors, packed shoulder to shoulder against police barricades, eyeing her sympathetically as she struggles to progress forwards. _

_ "Noah!" Shelby shouts for her son amidst the crowd, her worst case scenario vision as to why Krista had called her so frantically quickly evolving in terms of her youngest child to her oldest in the acknowledgment that for once, Rachel is actually the safe one, tucked away inside of a rehabilitation center two hours away._

_ Her mind races with the plethora of possibilities, from fires to burglaries to accidents involving live wires or exposed kitchen knives or a full bathtub… She had been stupid to have forgotten the countless threats that posed potential risk to her son and suddenly, Shelby finds herself unable to breathe with the guilt of the reminder that she has spent all this time worrying about losing Rachel, that she hasn't even considered the possibility that losing Noah would bring an indescribable pain that would hurt just as badly. _

"_M'ame, you can't come through here…" A hand latches onto Shelby's shoulder from behind, but she shrugs it off with ease. The idea of a police officer trying stop her was an almost laughable insult that Shelby immediately takes personally. _

_ "This is my house!" Shelby doesn't stop pressing forward only whips her head around her shoulder in order inform the man of her credentials for amnesty._

_ "I'm sorry…" He slowly attempts to indicate that this is no reason for reprieve as he tries once more to pack her back in behind the barricades. His incessant persistence immediately has Shelby blazing with fury. This time, when she stops running she turns to face him with a look that can kill._

_ "My son is over there!" She practically growls her response, so threatening that even this well weathered police man knows that it is time to back away. She deems it a measure of his personal intelligence when he chooses not try attempt to stop her again. _

"_NOAH!" _

_Shelby calls for her son but once again, she receives no answer. All around her, people stare, eyeing her with a sympathy inside of their faces that Shelby cannot comprehend. She wishes that they would all just stop staring at her already and tell her what the hell was going on._

_ Instead they silence, shrinking backwards as if she were dangerous, as if a fragment of her misfortune could rub off of her and onto them – murder with a deadly weapon. People, they are always trying to strategically plan their lives, the perfect home, the perfect job, the perfect family… Shelby still doesn't have the heart to remind them that rarely if ever, does it come out so perfectly._

_Her eyes dart frantically. She is a scavenger, desperate to find what is rightfully hers. In her haze, all of the faces look the same. She can't seem to pinpoint a single familiar figure no matter how hard she tries._

_When she finally does spot her son, looking terrified yet otherwise uninjured, it is with a rush of blood to her head that has her so dizzy that she nearly collapses on the spot. _

_ He is seated against the curb outside of her house besides a police officer who has his arm wrapped protectively about the boy's thin shoulders. Noah is still wearing the clothes that he wore for baseball practice as he digs his elbows into the dirty knees of his white pants, pulling the brim of his hat down low over his eyes in an effort to stem the obvious expression of tears. _

_ "Noah!" She calls once more, this time directly to her son whose ears immediately perk in response to hearing the familiar voice shouting his name. His head raises upwards, craning briefly against his neck until he spots his mother who wastes no time rushing forwards._

_ Her legs move faster and faster towards her son as Noah pushes away from the officer previously filling in for his mother until she could arrive. He moves so quickly that the man doesn't so much as have an opportunity to register the motion._

_ Noah leaps the last handful of steps into his mother's arms, burying himself immediately inside of her chest where he allows her to hold onto him as tightly as humanly possible while he flings his arms around her shoulders and squeezes._

"_Noah baby, are you okay?"_

_The answer is clearly obvious, but Shelby chooses to ask it anyway as she rubs gentle circles across her son's thin upper back and rocks him slowly back and forth to calm him. But her efforts only have his sobs increasing; the relief towards his mother's presence rushing him with an emotion that sweeps and combines with the rest in a manner much too overwhelming for the seven year old to handle._

_ "I… I…" He can't seem to find the words. They catch in his throat as he hiccups against his inability to draw a sufficient enough breath to speak. "Daddy…"_

"_Excuse me m'ame, but you're going to have to move out of the way."_

"_I already told you, I…" Her sharp, frustrated criticisms towards the idea of having to explain herself to yet another police officer trying to push her aside is cut abruptly short as she swivels to face him only to immediately realize his intentions…_

_ Her face falls rapidly and dramatically; a look of non-expressible anger to a shocking horror in a manner of mere seconds._

_ At least ten people surround the stretcher, cramped tightly together in an effort to block the scene inside of their very hands from the prying eyes of neighbors straining against the police tape for a closer look. Their efforts are futile, the contents obvious; a thick black body bag resting motionless atop the mobile transportation device. _

_ Shelby's head immediately begins to spin with questions. Her natural instinct has her pushing Noah's face even deeper inside of her own shoulder as to prevent him from seeing anymore of this than what he already had to… _

_ Suddenly, it is all starting to make sense. The very last person that she had though to express concern towards was the one that she should have been worrying about all along…_

_Hiram,_

_An un-humanlike wail filters through her ears and it takes Shelby a moment to realize that the sound is coming from inside of her own throat._

_ Her legs grow immediately shaky at the knees; she knows in an instant that there is absolutely nothing that she can do to prevent herself from falling where she stands. The only thing that she is able to do to prepare is to grip Noah even tighter and pray to God that her momentary loss of control in her insurmountable grief doesn't damage her son any further than he already has been… than he inevitably will be._

_ When she finally does land against the hard cement sidewalk beneath her, the burning sensation of the pavement digging deep into either of her kneecaps is a welcoming relief to the pain that filters inside of her chest as she slowly begins to recognize the idea that she has spent the last several months trying desperately to convince herself that even if the sun doesn't shine tomorrow, that they will all still survive anyway… _

_And suddenly, even the one lie that has kept her together all of these weeks is something that Shelby is finding it difficult to commit to._

* * *

><p>"Are we there yet?"<p>

Shelby struggles to hide her smile as she watches her daughter crane her neck as far as humanly possible from her position in her car seat in the back in an effort to catch a glimpse of the house that she has not seen in months… Today the question that every parent dreads upon attempting to shuffle a small children inside of a car for more than a half hour at a time actually serves to brighten her otherwise dismal mood.

"Yeah honey," Shelby turns onto the familiar block, rolling to a stop on the street directly outside of their house, "You're home."

"Why are we parking in the street, momma?" Her tiny, incessantly curious daughter has Shelby freezing for not the first time this day alone. Shelby was hoping that Rachel wouldn't notice the seemingly miniscule change in routine, especially since it has been so long since she's experienced Shelby's usual method of keeping her car inside of the garage… She doesn't have the heart to tell Rachel that she can no longer bring herself to enter inside of that tiny little room without suppressing the urge to vomit over the idea of what had happened in there.

One day she knows that she will have to explain the cause of all of her nightmares to her daughter. She will have to tell Rachel how they got there in the first place, and why no matter how hard she tries, they will never, ever truly go away…

But today is not that day.

"We decided to do a little bit of construction on the garage Rachel, fix it up a little. You know how messy it is in there; almost as bad as your brother's bedroom." She makes her daughter laugh with a lie and guilt immediately festers inside of her stomach like a fist gradually trapping the organ inside. "Don't worry, it will be done soon."

"Okay," Rachel shrugs, accepting her mother's answer easily, eternally faithful of Shelby, even when Shelby isn't quite so certain of herself.

She makes quick, the motions of unbuckling her daughter, carefully balancing their luggage over either shoulder while simultaneously clutching the girl to her chest as she makes her way slowly up the front path towards her house.

The second that she opens the front door, Shelby is immediately suspicious of the silence that greets her. Experience tells her that it is indicative of one of two things; either something is very wrong, or somebody is trying to hide something from her.

Either way, Shelby has been conditioned to not be particularly fond in the art of surprise.

"Hello?" Shelby squeezes her child subconsciously tighter into her chest as she calls through the seemingly empty house.

"We're in here, Shelby!" Shelby sighs in response to her mother's voice as it calls to her from out inside of the kitchen, finding herself releasing a breath that she had not even realized that she had been holding to begin with alongside the realization that she is not alone, that there were no more unexpected tragedies awaiting her from behind closed doors.

"Come on honey let's go see what grandma wants…." Shelby breathes towards Rachel, but her words register mostly upon herself in the wonderment of what eccentrics her notoriously over the top mother may have planned for Rachel's return home…

"Surprise!" The sentiments from her family, lined strategically across the dining room damn near give Shelby a heart attack, "Welcome home Rachel!"

The set up is elaborate. It might as well have been Rachel's damn sweet sixteen party forget her home coming. There are welcome home signs, balloons, even a couple of presents… Shelby recognizes immediately that this must be the product of her mother and her sister, both of whom have always spoiled her children rotten despite her insistencies not to do so.

In her unexpected surprise, Shelby finds herself naturally retreating only slightly. Adrenaline pumps desperately through her veins, temporarily begging her to retreat into safety… Like she said, she has grown accustomed not to appreciate surprises.

But inside of her arm's, her child's response is an entirely different story. She listens as Rachel squeals with delight, clapping enthusiastically in the most active nature that she has displayed in months.

Her little diva, her own personal mini-me, reacting happily as if being shrouded with attention was natural to her… The reminder that Rachel is nothing more than a smaller version of herself tells Shelby that it is.

The woman regains her ground quickly. Sure, Shelby may no longer be particularly fond of surprises, but one thing was for certain, her daughter still was.

She watches, hooked upon the scene before her as Rachel's eyes widen and glow with appreciation. After this morning, Shelby had been certain that this was an expression that she had been long beyond the days of seeing again.

And Shelby is certain that this is one surprise that she can make an exception to.

* * *

><p><em>She takes the back roads all the way to Toledo. <em>

_It nearly doubles an already two hour drive, but Shelby is still in no way near prepared enough for the inevitable conversation that she is about to have with her daughter, even with all of this extra time._

_ As she moves rhythmically through the crowded, familiar rehabilitation center, Shelby's motions become almost robotic. It is all that her body can possibly manage. Anything more – Shelby knows – and she will be reduced to nothing. _

_ Her face is pale and blank. Tears are still filtering about her eyes, staining her skin permanently as she shuffles along the multitudes of people crowding about her from inside of the lobby. _

_ People stare. All before her, their eyes attract naturally towards Shelby's grieving form, staring, judging… She had thought that one day, Shelby would grow accustomed enough to this action to be used to it._

_She had thought wrong. _

_Her eyes somehow manage to latch upon every single couple within a hundred yard vicinity; arms draped about each other's shoulders or hands intertwined amongst another's… Shelby watches their love and she tries to be grateful that at least somebody has received a chance at endless happiness, a chance that she herself had once had before it was cut so unexpectedly short…_

_ The longer that she stares, the more envy that she feels until ultimately, Shelby is filled with nothing but jealousy stemming from the sheer loneliness that does absolutely nothing other than make her heart yearn even harder with desperate longing. _

_ When she finally steps off of the elevator and into the pediatric ward, the dawning of understanding that flashes about the faces of all of those standing around her is enough to make her blood boil._

_They don't even know the half of it. _

_She arrives quickly outside of Rachel's room but even still, Shelby chooses not to make her presence immediately known. Instead, she props herself up inside of the doorway, lingering thoughtfully as she watches Rachel slouch inside of her bed and absentmindedly picking at the tray of food that sits before her, effectively swirling her dinner about her plate but never seeming to take a single bite._

_ Shelby is hardly inconspicuous. But of course, observance has not particularly been one of Rachel's strong suits in these past couple of weeks, Shelby's normally alert child reduced to nothing more than a cocktail of head swarming drugs that these days, seemed to be killing her faster than the cancer was._

_ "Rachel?" The second that Shelby speaks, she immediately recognizes the idea that her words shake just a little bit more than she ever would have liked… Rachel's response is slow and sluggish; Shelby can immediately tell that her daughter is just coming down from the sleeping medication that the nurse's have made a habit of giving her in an effort to stave off the night terror's that have taken to keeping Rachel awake and screaming into the night._

_Usually, Shelby hates the way that they make her daughter act. Today, she is simply grateful for the additional thinking time. _

"_Momma…" Rachel squints in an effort to identify the woman, no more than a blurry image in front of her, the chemotherapy having long since lined her eyes with a watery layer of mucus that no amount of strong steroid treatment can ever seem to clear entirely, "What's the matter…" _

_ Shelby's already slow movements inside of Rachel's room are halted entirely by Rachel's pinpoint observance that something is terribly, terribly wrong… Shelby swallows in her understanding that the time to stall is over. Rachel is not a stupid girl, she has never been one to be easily fooled. _

_ "Rachel…" Shelby breathes carefully, stepping up to the edge of Rachel's bed where she sits herself down slowly against the mattress, buying a small handful of additional thinking minutes by lifting her small child from beneath the arms and placing her down against her lap. Shelby holds her daughter close to her in the acknowledgment towards just how quickly she can lose it all. "Rachel honey, something very bad happened earlier today…" _

_ "What is it?" Rachel glances up towards Shelby so quickly that her neck cracks. Her eyes are wide, full of a fear that no four year old in their right mind should ever have to experience, let alone be forced to comprehend the true meaning of. _

_ "It has to do with your daddy, honey…" Shelby's words choke just thinking about her words as she transitions upon a point of no return with informing her daughter. "And Rachel, I just need you to know that I… I'm very sad about what happened, and I'm also a little bit angry as well so it's okay for you to be sad or angry about it too…"_

_ "What happened momma?" Rachel's voice trembles with terror as she quickly tires of Shelby's less than satisfying pace. Rachel has long since learned to always anticipate worst case scenarios, and unfortunately, she was correct in doing so._

_ "Honey, your daddy… your daddy…" Shelby chokes subconsciously at the mere mention of Hiram, the noise emitting as a soft, gentle squeak that forces Shelby to pause as she raises a hand to cover her mouth before she can allow anymore incriminating sounds to slip from her throat. "Your daddy… he died this afternoon, Rachel."_

_ "Died?" Rachel's head tilts with confusion. She knows what the word means, Shelby knows that she understands the concept fully having long since experienced countless conversations regarding it following her diagnosis. But still, she is confused, confused towards the idea that while everybody has been bombarding her with concern of death as being in regards to herself, it was her mother who stands before her today to inform her that it would actually be her father to go first. "You mean he went up to heaven?" _

_ Rachel is remarkably calm, much more composed than Shelby herself could ever hope to be as her vision begins to cloud with tears for what seems to be the millionth time today alone. _

_ "Yes Rachel… an angel got his wings today." Shelby's voice shakes as she reverts backwards, retreating upon the initial means by which she'd chosen to describe the concept of dying and heaven to her two children… It is a vision that she herself is not fond of, nor one that she particularly believes in herself, but if it was going to make Rachel feel better, than hell, it was going to make Shelby feel better too. _

_ "That means that he's going to be okay, right… If he's up in heaven I mean?" Rachel slowly places together the complicated pieces of the puzzle in a manner that has Shelby almost wishing that she could enter inside of her four year olds head and utilize but a fraction of Rachel's bravery. _

_ "Yes Rachel…" Shelby nods carefully, "Wherever he is I'm sure that he's much better now."_

"_Was daddy sick like I am, momma?" Shelby is fully expecting these difficult questions, but she has stupidly not expected this one. She is forced to pause as to come up with an answer that will not scare her child half to death as she begins to make parallels between her father's fate and her own. "You said that he was sick when he died but was he sick like me?"_

_ "Your daddy was sick Rachel, but he wasn't sick like you are, he was sick in a very different way."She chooses her words carefully, experience reminding her just how literally a child has a tendency to interpret any piece of information that you provide them with. "He was sick in a way that made him think very, very sad thoughts. These sad thoughts made your dad think that he had nowhere to go and no other way out of his sad thoughts except for dying…Your dad… he decided that he didn't want to be alive anymore so he… he killed himself, Rachel."_

_ "Why?" She shows no emotion other than genuine confusion. Shelby almost wishes that she would instead scream and cry, kick and throw tantrums; anything other than this blank, devoid face and an endless supply of questions that she cannot answer._

_ "I don't know the answer to that honey. The truth is, I may never be able to." Shelby shakes her head softly, reflecting her understanding towards the disappointment that Rachel must feel towards her answer. "But you listen to me, I need you to know that me and you and Noah are going to get through this together okay. I promise that we will move past this… as a family." _

_ "But without daddy…"_

_ "Yes Rachel," Shelby nods, gripping onto Rachel's hand tightly, providing it with a gentle yet firm squeeze; definite yet at the same time soft in its support, "Without daddy?" _

_Shelby studies her daughter's face carefully wishing desperately that by doing so she could just enter inside of Rachel's head and read her mind as the girl's brows furrow with careful consideration before she lifts her head, wide doe-like eyes so like Shelby's own staring upwards towards her mother in wonderment._

_ "If daddy was sick and he died does that mean that I'm gonna die because I'm sick to?" Shelby's heart grows hard as she is immediately forced to stem all of the anger that she suddenly feels towards her husband for ever instilling such fears inside of her daughter._

_ "No," Shelby makes the distinct promise that she is not entirely certain that she can keep, "Just because you are sick that does not mean that you are going to die Rachel. Your dad… your dad was a very different kind of sick from you, remember that."_

_ "He died because he was sad…" Rachel repeats Shelby's previous sentiments as if to prove that she had indeed been paying attention despite her continues questions, as if to prove herself competent enough for this conversation although Shelby had already known that her daughter was more qualified to understand the situation than any of the rest of them._

_ "Yes," Shelby nods, taking careful consideration of every single word that she is allowing her daughter to digest._

"_Was he sad because of me?"_

"_No!" Shelby doesn't mean to be so abrupt with Rachel and regrets her tone immediately upon watching her daughter shrink back against her mattress and away from her… But the motion is instinctive, a response to Shelby's sudden and unexpected reaction; a mother's determination that neither of her children will ever believe this situation to be either of their faults in any capacity. "Rachel Barbra Corcoran, you listen to me right now; nothing that you or your brother did is what made your dad sad enough to do what he did. I know that it hurts honey, and it's okay, all of these things that you are feeling right now but still, you need to know that this is not any of your fault."_

_ "Are you gonna miss him momma?" Rachel fidgets uncomfortably as if under the impression that she was pushing the limits of her questioning despite Shelby's insistent wishes that Rachel understand that nothing is out of bounds when it comes to them._

_ "Of course I will," Shelby nods offering Rachel a sad smile that she prays comes up dry despite the tears that she can feel beginning to well beneath her eyelids. "I'm going to miss the way he was with you kids, I'm gonna miss him coming home to us every night. I'm gonna miss his smile… But you already know that you and Noah, you guys both got your dads smile so I won't have to look far for that…" Shelby reaches upwards, her fingers gently grasping around Rachel's chin as she attempts to coax this grin from her daughter's face. The motion is half assed at best but still it is there. "I'm not telling you anything that you don't know though"_

_ "Are you gonna miss me?" Shelby chokes on absolute nothing, that familiar fist inside of her stomach clenching as she subconsciously squeezes just a little bit too tightly against Rachel's jaw, forcing the girl to retreat away from her touch in her discomfort._

"_You are not going anywhere Rachel." Shelby offers the promise with perhaps a little too much vigor behind her voice, "I promise you that as long as I am here with you, none of us are going anywhere." _

* * *

><p>As it turns out, the elaborate get together strategically planned by the entirety of Shelby's extended family – Noah included – for the sake of welcoming Rachel back home becomes nothing more than a friendly gesture for Rachel's sake within minutes.<p>

The child proves exhausted from today's grueling events; too tired for a bite of food, too tired to so much as sit herself upright at the table. She's fast asleep on Shelby's lap within twenty minutes, and when the mother carefully lowers her onto the couch and tucks her in comfortably, Rachel does not so much as move.

"Momma!" In typical fashion, mere moments upon getting Rachel settled somewhere other than herself, just as Shelby is about to take her first bite of real food all day, she is called instantly back to Rachel's side.

"I'm sorry…" Shelby offers a warrantless apology towards her family who silences immediately in response to the soft voice calling her name. She gently places her fork back down against her plate, food still skewed to its pointed ends. "I just have to go check on Rachel quick."

"Of course you do…" Her mother speaks for all of them, the woman whose reputation is fed on her gentle nature shooing her own daughter away to care for hers.

"Thank you…" Shelby breathes appreciatively towards their understanding, folding her napkin against the table top as she stands to her feet and shuffles quickly towards the adjacent room where she immediately finds her daughter sitting up against the couch, tangled impossibly inside of her blankets as she rubs at her tired eyes with tiny fists.

"Are you okay baby?" Shelby rushes the last several steps towards Rachel, lowering herself against the couch so that she sits side by side besides her daughter.

"I had a nightmare." Rachel hiccups, her voice no higher than a whisper as a series of large tears bigger than she is begin to drip down her cheeks.

"Oh Rachel, come here honey mommy's got you now…" Shelby coos supportively towards her child, extending her arms outwards as to allow Rachel to climb inside of them. The tiny girl positions herself with an experienced precision against her mother's familiar body, clinging tightly as she allows Shelby's arms to snake around her back, gentle fingers wiping away at the tears inside of her eyes. "It's okay, you're okay now Rachel… What was your nightmare about, sweetheart?"

"I don't remember it all…" Rachel chokes, her voice continuing to tremble despite the additional comfort provided inside of her mother's arms. "But I do remember that it was something scary and that it happened to me."

"Shh, it's okay Rachel I promise I am not going to let anything scary happen to you." Shelby makes her promise, her arms tightening slightly in an effort to use her motions to emphasize her words. "Not so long as I'm here."

"I remember a little bit of it now…" Rachel slowly builds up her trust, easing into the details that she has previously chosen to withdraw. Her voice grows determinedly strong in her insistence that it stays straight.

"Yeah…" Shelby gestures down towards Rachel, indicating towards her daughter that it is safe for her to continue speaking.

"I have a question…" Rachel follows up in a manner that Shelby had not particularly been expecting, but she is grateful towards her instinctive ability to respond without hesitation.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"What happens when you die?" This time, Shelby cannot help her own dramatic pause. The hand that had previously been rubbing gentle circles along Rachel's frail back freezes in a manner that has Shelby immediately cursing her actions upon feeling Rachel tense and retreat from her out of fear that she had said something terribly, terribly wrong.

"What do you mean?" Shelby forces her voice to restart as to ease Rachel's fears, begging Rachel for further explanation as to buy her some time as she struggles to come up with the appropriate answer for such a seemingly innocent question that packs such a heavy punch.

She is not ready to have this conversation with her four year old, not with the open wounds of her daughter's current brush with death is still healing after being so impossibly deepened by Hiram. But then again, she knows that she can never truly be prepared for something like this.

With a deep breath, Shelby deduces that sooner will be better than later. She commits to her answer, but still, Shelby almost wishes that Rachel would just ask her where babies come from instead.

"I know that daddy died, and I know that people are always talking about what's gonna happen if I die… I remember that you told me that dying means that nobody can ever see you again because you have to go up to heaven, but I guess I still don't really get it." Rachel speaks slowly, her eyes narrowing in her distinct concentration as she attempts to piece the answers to her own question together inside of her ever busy head.

"Rachel, when a person dies… When a person dies it means that their bodies aren't strong enough to work anymore." Shelby is strategically vague in the hopes that Rachel will accept the answers that Shelby gives to her… Deep down however, the mother knows not to rely on this hope. "After their bodies stop working, that's when they go up to heaven…"

"But how can a person go to heaven if their bodies are right there?" Shelby stares down at the perpetual question churner that is her child. She wonders how long Rachel has been holding onto this wonderment; with a pang of sadness, Shelby realizes that it has probably been weeks, ever since Hiram's funeral where Shelby had been forced to explain to her children exactly what it was that was inside of that big box that they were lowering inside of the ground.

"I don't know Rachel…" Shelby shakes her head gently as she is forced to admit that she is not the keeper of infinite answers that her daughter believes her to be. "That is a mystery that nobody really knows."

"That seems silly…" Rachel huffs, her daughter, so notorious for her insistencies of pushing for answers until she can see every side of everything not particularly enjoying this unusual feeling of being stumped, of not knowing something… "Is heaven even real?"

The four year old seated before her sounds so remarkably grown up in asking this question. Shelby is suddenly reminded of herself; a fit of rebellion that she had embarked upon as a teenager in which she'd refused going to temple every week with her family, claiming the same exact question as her reasoning… _Was _heaven even real?

But their family has never been the religious type. There had been a time not too long ago that Shelby believed herself to have at least another decade before she would have to answer this question, if she ever would.

Shelby curses herself when she is so taken aback in her search for an appropriate response for her daughter that she is confused into silence.

The truth is that she has been asking herself this same damn question for months now.

"Where's all of this coming from, huh?" Shelby responds by avoiding Rachel's question all together, propping her daughter further against her lap so that she can look deep inside of her eyes, wide with questions. "Was it a part of your nightmare?"

"I just don't get it…" Shelby watches as Rachel's face grows increasingly frustrated in a bid for answers that seems to only be running in circles. "Daddy always told me to fight, but then he got sick and he died so what does that mean…"

Shelby closes her eyes briefly against her daughter's words… She pulls Rachel close inside of her chest once more in an effort to prevent her daughter from seeing the tears that spring into her eyes. Immediately, the last words that Hiram had left to her in a short, handwritten note spring inside of every tear that slips down her cheeks.

_You are a stronger person than I can ever dream of being. I am so thankful that our children take after you. Please take care of them, and don't ever let stop fighting._

"Rachel, just because your dad was sick and he died… it doesn't mean that the same thing is going to happen to you, it doesn't mean that he still didn't want what is best for you and your brother." For the first time in the entirety of this conversation, an answer slips from Shelby's mouth with ease. This much, she truly believes; that in both life and death, no matter the circumstances between them, Hiram was the man that had always and will always steal her heart away in his love for his children. Still, she struggles to believe that this all had ended in the manner that it had. "He knows just how strong you are, I'm sure that wherever he is, he still does…"

Rachel slowly nods her head in response to her mother's assuring words, but Shelby can tell that her daughter remains disheartened in her uncertainties.

"You know, sometimes I dream about your father too…" Shelby breathes through the silence, offering Rachel a secret of her own, one that she has not spoken with anybody just to assure her that everything that she was thinking, everything that she was _dreaming_ was okay.

"Are they happy dreams or sad dreams?" The success of her intention is immediately obvious in the manner by which Rachel perks in her response. She offers her daughter a smile in return, but it is laced with sadness as Shelby is forced to pause and reflect. It is true, what she had told her daughter; that she has since learned to develop Hiram into her own dream state in a manner by which she can see him the way that she _wants_ to remember him every single night of her life. And even if by the time that she wakes up, his image falls right back into the broken man that Shelby had last seen she knows that it is okay because she has learned to tuck him away into a reoccurring oasis that she can only escape inside of when she is truly asleep.

Happy dreams… she wouldn't exactly call them happy dreams, but this is _not_ something that she is willing to share with her daughter right now, especially in Rachel's sensitive state…

So she lies.

"Yes Rachel, they're happy dreams."

"Does that mean that it's okay to still think about daddy sometimes?" Rachel fidgets nervously, as if terrified that Shelby will say something other than an expression of complete and unconditional support.

"Yes honey," Shelby assures her, running a soothing hand across the top of Rachel's head, praying to God that the girl cannot feel as her hand trembles. "It's okay to still think about your dad."

"That's good…" Rachel yawns heavily, her eyes slowly closing in a motion indicative of the idea that she finally feels comfortable enough with her mother's answers to allow herself to succumb to the vulnerability of sleep once more.

"Sleep baby…" Shelby holds her gently, forming a protective barrier with her arms as Rachel curls into a ball against her torso, relaxing so that she falls like dead weight… But she is so small that it is a difference that Shelby barely notices. Suddenly, she's afraid to move so much as an inch out of fear towards jolting her daughter awake all over again.

Her hand moves rhythmically against her daughter's back. Even after she feels the girl's breathing evening out in a manner indicative of a deep and peaceful sleep, Shelby refuses to stop, instead finding herself growing hypnotized with her own motions as her eyes gradually begin to increase in their weight, blinking rapidly open and shut until finally, they become so heavy that not even she can force them open once more.

"Shelby…"

She wakes to a firm nudge against her shoulder, groaning impatiently as in her haze of sleep, the soft push feels almost equivalent to a punch.

Her tired eyes blink slowly open… When had she fallen asleep?

The exhaustion that remains laced behind her eyes tricks her mind into believing that she couldn't have been here for very long… The second that she looks out of the window only to find that it is now dark outside corrects her with the evidence that it must have been hours.

"Shelby wake up," Her bleary eyes clear to the image of her sister as her exhausted mind slowly beings to piece back together how it was exactly that she had gotten here… Her hands grope blindly, comfortable to find that Rachel is still fast asleep on top of her chest.

"Go away…" Shelby murmurs with a practical incoherence, using her free hand to push her intrusive sister away.

"Dr. McCarthy is on the phone."

This time, Krista has Shelby's attention captured in full. The older woman's eyes snap open and to attention, her body shooting upwards in a motion that is frantic, yet at the same time gentle enough to ensure that she does not wake up her sleeping daughter in the process.

"Can you stay with her?" Shelby shoots the request over her shoulder and towards her sister in an elevated whisper. She doesn't bother waiting for the affirming nod of Krista's head before she is rushing into the kitchen, straight towards the phone where it rests off of its hook against the countertop.

"Hello?"

She breathes with a frantic succession, the heavy, ragged sound echoing back inside of her ears in a manner that makes even her cringe.

"Shelby…" His voice is neutral; Shelby hates that she can never seem to effectively read his tone. Tears swell inside of her eyes in her rush for answers, her pupils darting subconsciously inside of their sockets in her panicked motions. Out of the corner of her eyes, she catches a glimpse of the digital clock glowering against the microwave…

_10:34_.

Shelby's breath hitches upward inside of her throat. The only reason that Rachel's doctor would be calling her home this late into the night was to inform her of more bad news.

"What's wrong?" Her heart thumps against her ribcage in her panic, tightening in her natural ability to automatically assume the worst. "Please tell me that nothing is wrong. You can't have Rachel back now, not after I just got her home…"

"Shelby it's okay, you can relax. This is a good phone call I promise." He is practically laughing at Shelby's insistencies that he only call when something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. She would have been offended had she not been so relieved.

"Oh thank God…" Shelby feels as though a thousand pound weight is lifted up and off of her shoulders towards his assurances; Dr. McCarthy knowing full well just how quickly the mother has a tendency to get herself needlessly worked up. Her body sinks in her relief, the first descent breath that she has managed to take since her sister had awoken her filters inside of her lungs so that she feels as if she has been brought back from the dead.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I know that you did only bring Rachel home from Toledo today, but I am going to have to ask you to readmit her into Lima Memorial as early as you possibly can tomorrow morning."

"I thought that you said this was supposed to a good phone call?" Her voice dips with worry once more, her brows furrowing in her confusion as she subconsciously scratches at her head in her confusion towards why this doctor would inform her that this was a call bearing good news only to go on and ask for her to admit her daughter into the hospital.

"It is." He commits to his conflicting promise all over again. The man's voice is soft but at the same time, it bursts with excitement, itching to get out what it is that he has to say. "I just got the word in today. We decided to petition for Rachel's stem cell transplant to be experimental due to the complications that arose when she developed meningitis. The hospital is going to do it pro bono. We need to begin preparing both Rachel and Noah as soon as humanly possible. We are officially ready to start this transplant."

* * *

><p><strong>Miriami<strong>** – Thank you as always! You have no idea how much I love your reviews! I love writing interactions between Rachel and Shelby and Noah and Shelby so I'm glad you're enjoying them :) Rachel is going to have at least a little bit of breathing room coming up, her health isn't going to be impacted by what happened the night that Noah was hurt. She's got enough karma points to cash in to get her through this. But things are definitely gonna start getting harder, Shelby is already starting to crack it's definitely starting to get harder and harder for her to keep it locked inside. She'll have her moment. Thanks again for reviewing!**

**Clara_Meliza**** – Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it there's much more coming up!**

**Adilamgp**** – Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying so far, they all still have a long way to go!**

**Baygirl123**** – Hahaha good because that's how I was interpreting it :) Thanks for the review!**


	40. Shelby Corcoran December 2011 Part III

**So this is kind of sad but I was just organizing everything that I have planned for this story and realized that there are only eleven chapters left to go :(  
><strong>

**Anyways I wanted to apologize again for the delay in that last chapter going up I guess the website got a little funky. But thanks to everybody who has stuck alongside me for this ride I'm excited about these last couple of chapters. Noah is up next!  
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* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran<strong> – December 2011  
><em>(Part III)<em>

* * *

><p>She had made the conscious effort to stop counting the days by which she would stay awake and the stars slowly transition into the day months ago now.<p>

It is the only possible way Shelby has convinced herself that she will be able to ignore just how often she seems to be doing it lately.

But these days counting seems to be the only means by which Shelby can get by; a consistent activity that forces her eyelids to remain continuously open despite everything screaming at her to just close them already.

She hadn't been sleeping well before Noah had gotten hurt. Now she has found herself taking to internet search engines to figure out just how many consecutive hours Shelby will be able to stay awake before she drops dead where she stands.

Shelby uses the sheer number of empty coffee cups surrounding her to calculate the time to be around mid afternoon. But at this point, the caffeinated beverage is all for show and emotional support. It no longer helps it hasn't in a long time. In fact, it seems to only make things worse.

She has spent her last several hours shuffling between the hospital rooms of both her son _and_ daughter as normal individuals embarked upon their instinctive, life sustaining refueling device. Neither had so much as shifted in the night.

Shelby can only wish that she could have said the same.

The only reason that she is currently finding herself dozing off at her own dining room table as opposed to inside of Lima Memorial is because her sister had finally forced her home to catch up on some sleep.

Krista hadn't even trusted Shelby to drive in the state that she was in and despite Shelby's most tantric of arguments and tantrums, ultimately, Shelby had left her children to her own parents' devices while Krista drove her home.

The plan as created by her sister's notoriously cunning mind was ideal. Shelby's car was still parked inside of the garage at Lima Memorial, ten miles away, Krista having driven herself back to the hospital the second that she had dropped her older sister off at home. Shelby has been backed into submission inside of her own home Krista's strictest of ground rules being her refusal to pick Shelby up until she received a sufficient amount of sleep.

But Shelby cannot sleep. It is foolish for anybody to believe that she could ever so much as consider sleep after the night that she had just had. Instead, she sits at her dining room table, counting the minutes as she raps her fingernails in a rhythmic tune against the wooden dining room table.

It has been twenty three minutes since Krista dropped her off.

She's uncomfortable. In the quietest hush that has since consumed it in all of the prominent absences, Shelby is shuddering with the discomfort that these previously homely walls had once given her.

Shelby exaggerates every motion that she makes as to simply spark an extra surplus of noise in the background.

She picks absentmindedly through the large pile of mail resting against the table in front of her, simply looking for something that she might be able to do with her hands. Tearing through each envelope with the savagery of a rabid animal, Shelby finds that the humble ripping is unusually satisfying; music to her ears that so desperately crave the chaos that she wishes still accompanied her household during these early hours.

Her eyes glance across the variety of words and letters; bills that gradually become final notices, but she doesn't take in a single one. Her brain is exhausted, a task as simple as reading growing gradually impossible in her over worked haze.

A large envelope eventually catches her eye and Shelby is convinced that the only reason that it does so is because the letters sheathed upon it are so damn big that she actually manages to read them over the tired fog that has since layered across her brain.

It's addressed to Noah.

She flips the thick folder inside of her hands, her eyes scanning curiously as she reads the words _Wittenberg College_ stamped front and center across the top. It's a recruitment letter, Shelby has seen enough of these pass through her hands to know that much.

Intrigued, Shelby easily overrides her guilty conscious, flipping open the seal before rapidly flipping through the contents.

'_Dear Mr. Corcoran_,' Shelby's eyes scan quickly, '_We are pleased to inform you that Wittenberg College, a proud division three athletic competitor is offering you a full athletic scholarship in correspondence with our competitive football program in the Fall 2012 semester.' _

The further down that Shelby reads, the wider her eyes seem to widen. It seems as if it were only yesterday that she had watched her son receive the devastating phone call from Notre Dame informing him that his scholarship had been revoked, the news that gradually followed it that no other school in the country seemed to want him.

His heart had been shattered. Hell, so had the rest of theirs.

Tears gather across the back of her eyes at the mere idea, her thoughts wandering uncontrollably alongside the reminder that now, every memory that Shelby will ever associate with her son playing football will pinpoint straight to the panic that she had felt inside of her chest as she awaited news on his fate inside of an emergency room just last night.

She cannot go through that again. That fear, that overwhelming reminder that should she be unfortunate enough to lose her daughter to cancer _and_ her son to a preventable injury, she will be the only one left. The panic radiates across her chest once more at the mere thought, the letter head slipping from between limp fingers before fluttering to the floor below her. Her hand rises against her chest in an effort to control her irregular breathing. Shelby will be damned if she ever lets this feeling eat away at her insides ever again.

In a rage of motivated fury, Shelby tears through her home, grabbing at her essential belongings as she moves until finally, she swipes her son's car keys from the rack that hangs inside of their kitchen. She is tired of people telling her to get some rest, to eat something, to take care of herself for a change.

They didn't understand. They had absolutely no idea what it felt like to have one child dying inside of hospital walls let alone two.

With absolutely no regrets to speak of, Shelby marches outside of her front door, her intentions being to head straight for the hospital. She passes the short row of garbage cans aligned outside of their house as she moves, ensuring that Noah's scholarship offer is shoved straight to the bottom as she moves.

Placing the most confident look upon her face that she can possibly muster, Shelby walks towards her son's car, parked out and on the street after one of Noah's football buddies had been kind enough to bring it home from the school parking lot following Noah's unexpected detour to the ER… She is so absorbed in the notion of passing off as being okay to the total strangers that surround her, that she doesn't even notice the body streaming perpendicularly towards her until she crashes straight into it.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry are you…" Shelby is cut short, flustered in her flurry of the unexpected interaction only briefly before regaining her bearings just enough to recognize the familiar face of the girl that she had struck, "Santana…"

"Hey, Mrs. C…" Santana's greeting is emitted in the form of a soft mutter at best. She avoids eye contact with Shelby in an immediate and obvious manner, her face glued to the sidewalk below them in a way that suddenly strikes Shelby with the reminder that she hasn't seen Santana Lopez since she had moved out of her home a couple of days ago.

It hasn't been particularly long since that time, not by any means at all, but still, Santana already looks different… Shelby cannot quite put her finger on the change but it is there. It is definitely there.

"What are you doing over here?" Shelby puts on her brave face as she attempts casual conversation alongside the understanding that the glee club should be well on their way to travel towards their second attempt at Regionals later on today in Columbus; a two hour drive. "Shouldn't you guys be on your way to Regionals right about now?"

"Uh… yeah, actually the bus doesn't leave for another half hour or so, I'll be alright…" Shelby cocks a suspicious eyebrow towards this timid little girl. She does not recognize Santana Lopez beneath this shell, not one bit. Motherly instinct immediately recognizes the girl's statement as a lie; her grueling understanding towards glee competitions' notorious reputation for being as early as humanly possible tied with the distance that the New Directions would have to travel simply to make time making this impossible.

"Santana are you okay?" Shelby drops her tone low, addressing Santana with a gentleness that only a mother could muster. The girl stiffens at the mere question alone, eyes wide with an apparent fear, her lip trembling as she tilts her head upwards to face Shelby.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" The words slip from her mouth much too quickly to be entirely believable, "Um… I gotta go. I'll see you later Mrs. Corcoran." Santana is hurrying down the street before the words have so much as finished falling from her mouth; a rapid power walk that quickly turns into a fast jog before developing into a full blown sprint. Shelby watches the entire thing with a stunned confusion as the young Latina disappears from sight around the block.

For a brief moment, Shelby is frozen in her wonderment towards what the hell had just happened. Sure, she had been present for the conversation, but still she finds herself more confused than ever in regards to Santana's mysterious behavior that did not help her already swarming head one bit.

In the time that it takes for Shelby to arrive back to the hospital and take in the relief of familiarity that no longer swelters about her own home, Santana is still on her mind, the mental note that she has already made to ask Noah whether or not he knows anything regarding what is going on with his former girlfriend.

Shelby is moving with rapid motions, her arm dangling subconsciously back and forth, the small paper bag that she had picked up from the pharmacy only moments prior to her arrival; a small Percocet prescription for her son to help ease the pain of the guaranteed headache bound to accompany the concussion that his football injury had left him with. The pills rattle from inside of the plastic bottle in a perfect coordination with her rhythmic footsteps.

Her thoughts linger upon the scholarship offer that her son had received; a bright future, a lifelong dream revoked and sitting at the bottom of a garbage can miles away. Guilt flashes briefly through her eyes but it is gone the second that she rounds inside of Noah's hospital room.

In a fit of impatience that mirrors the prominent characteristic of his mother, Noah is already waiting to be discharged by the time Shelby arrives. He is fully dressed, wearing a bored, yet hurried look that matches that adorned upon Shelby's face only moments ago as she sat at her dining room table waiting to be picked up only to ultimately take matters into her own hands.

Like mother like son she can only assume.

"What are you doing here?" His voice wears a hint of accusation. Shelby can only assume that her sister has already informed Noah the harsh stipulations leading to his mother's return from home although she cannot deduce whether Noah is glad to see his mother standing inside of his doorway or disappointed. "Aunt Krista said that you were home sleeping and getting something to eat…"

"I did." Shelby shrugs, amazed towards this sudden role reversal as she attempts to play casual to her son when in reality, it should be the other way around.

"A half hour is hardly sleeping." He eyes her with an accusation that matches her signature glare to the exact. After years of being on the receiving end of things it seems as though her son finally has her every move down pat. "How did you get here anyway? Aunt Krista said that she dropped you off… Did you take my car? You did, didn't you?"

"Please Noah," Shelby raises a silencing hand, her eyes closing in her desperate indication for him to stop ranting and raving like a lunatic before she finds herself even more creeped out in regards to the manner by which he can mimic her to the tee than what she already is. "Let me be the mother, okay?"

"Fine," He obliges to her request but he does so with a huff, crossing his muscular arms tight across his chest.

"Look on the bright side; at least you'll get out of here a couple of hours earlier now." Shelby smirks gently trying desperately to force Noah's mind away from _why_ she was here and onto the means by which it will benefit him.

He considers her words, weighs the options carefully and eventually nods his head in his general agreement.

"Yeah thank God," The reminder has him launching off of his feet, performing a strenuous walk straight towards the doorway. He is already in the hallway and ready to make his escape when he turns his head over his shoulder with a look of sarcastic accusation displayed all across his face. "Jeez ma, why didn't you come earlier?"

"Yeah, I thought so." Shelby smirks in her victory, emphasizing the idea that she is always right when it comes to her children. Even when she is so obviously wrong. "Come on, your sister is already starting her dialysis treatment… Unless you wanna head home for a little bit?"

Shelby eyes her son with a serious intensity, not entirely certain that she should be trusting him with these decisions of judgment in regards to his own health. Her children are genetically hardwired to never put themselves before anybody else, God help the both of them.

"Nah…" Noah shrugs casually, continuing on his way through the hallways, walking directly past the empty wheelchair that the nurse has left as par to the stipulations of his discharge without so much as looking twice. "It's not like I ever really leave this place anyway."

"Tell me about it." Shelby mutters quietly under her breath, hoping to God that her son cannot hear her, and if he did, that he could at least understand the true extent by which she means it when she tells him that she knows exactly how he feels.

For the first time in over a decade, Shelby gets lost inside of the walls of Lima Memorial Hospital.

The nephrology ward is one that is entirely new to her, unfamiliar and at the same time, painstakingly humbling upon forcing Shelby to come to terms with the idea that she does not know this enormous building nearly as well as she previously thought that she had.

She isn't entirely certain whether or not this is a good thing or a bad one, unable to accurately place that pang inside her chest nor exactly what it means to her.

It takes the combined mother and son thirty minutes just to figure out that the dialysis unit is an entirely different building let alone an entirely different ward, catering well to the vast number of outpatient individuals, yet certainly not to the families that are trying to locate them.

When they do finally find Rachel, the majority of her preparation is already complete. In fact, judging by the nurse taping down the second of two thick needles that protrudes prominently from the underside of Rachel's forearms, the only thing left to do now is to begin removing her blood straight out of her body as if it were some sort of mechanical vampire.

"Hey…" Rachel quickly notices the abrupt change inside of the otherwise bland room. Her eyes scan quickly across the forms of both her mother and brother, perking slightly towards their unexpected presence as she eyes Noah with a hint of envy across her face, "You got sprung?"

"Yup," Noah smiles proudly, nodding his head as he walks further inside of Rachel's room with a hint of an extra swagger behind his steps, "Jealous?"

"More than you know." Rachel sighs, the perfect split between a joke and the absolute truth. "So you get released from the hospital and come straight into another room? What is this like some sort of Stockholm syndrome or something?"

"Are you kidding me? Do you really think that I of all people would miss an opportunity to watch my little sister's blood get taken out of her body? This is like… every brother's dream. It's like Christmas came a little bit early this year." Noah works his charm, lightening the mood with one of his famous smiles. Shelby is too grateful to be upset over Noah torturing his sister.

"You're disgusting, Noah…" Rachel wrinkles her face in disgust, her eyes wandering down towards the two prominent needles that are sticking out of her arm as if she is suddenly having second thoughts now that the consequences are displayed so bluntly.

"What, that's what's happening… That is what's happening, isn't it?" Noah shrugs his shoulders in an expression of innocence as he attempts to piece together his understanding of the situation, eyes scanning about the room before finally settling on the nurse currently caring for Rachel, looking for backup in the form of an expert confirmation of his elaborate theory.

"Yup, that's what's happening…" The woman confirms Noah's words through an absentminded head bob, "Okay Rachel you are just about set here… Real quick before we start you going there's just a couple of things that you need to look out for. Now your first session is scheduled to run for three hours, and this saline line that runs directly through the machine here is designed to keep your fluids up but there are still a couple of things that you're gonna have to watch out for, that you're gonna have to let us know immediately if you notice."

"Why?"Rachel raises a curious eyebrow. She is so used to side effects being her typical standard of normal that she cannot seem to fathom why it is that she would have to sound an alarm.

"Because this is your first time on dialysis and now your free weight will give us a nice approximation of the settings that your body will adhere to but we're still going to have to use a little bit of trial and error in order to set the standard, especially considering yours is such a special case so that you are at a much higher risk for things like infection and dehydration…"

"So basically you're trying to keep this from kicking my ass too hard?" Rachel gives an affirmative nod of understanding as she places her nurse's words in the most lament terms humanly possible.

"Rachel!" Shelby reacts sharply to her daughter's uncharacteristic sass but the nurse pays no mind to the matter as she offers Rachel a small lopsided smile through a quick nod of her head.

"Exactly."

"Okay," Rachel takes a deep breath in an indication of her readiness, a confident head bob that has the white mesh cap that doesn't cover her otherwise exposed head in its entirety falling slightly down in front of her eyes. "Lay 'em on me."

"Alright, if you start feeling more fatigued than usual, unbearable headaches, if you start finding yourself dizzy or nauseous or flushed and feverish you need to let us know." The nurse ticks the specific list of symptoms off on each one of her fingers as she speaks, counting the stipulations off silently as Shelby makes it a plan to make a mental note of this list in the reminder to watch out for each and every one of them in her daughter knowing full well just how often her daughter had a tendency to forget these sorts of things.

"I always feel like that…" Rachel sighs, her face screwing up in the confusion as to how the hell she is supposed to distinguish between her normal aches and pains and these new ones. In the corner of the room, her son snorts slightly in his effort to hold back his laughter, his miniscule attention span already getting the better of him as he begins to swing back and forth against the swivel chair that he sits inside of, watching as Shelby shoots a quick glare towards his general direction as if to warn him to silence before he really got it.

"If you feel like that more so than usual, I mean…" The nurse offers a soft, almost sympathetic glance towards Rachel as she is forced to explain herself even further.

"Okay." Rachel nods quickly, a personal indication that she understands although Shelby is not entirely certain that she does.

"Alright, well are you ready to get started?" The family subconsciously tenses as a triple unit, prepared yet at the same time not quite ready for something that seems so big yet at the same time is taken so lightly by everybody else around them.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Rachel sighs in her display of a strength that Shelby can only wish herself to be granted a fraction of, the girl taking a deep breath that she subconsciously finds herself holding as the nurse before her shifts from Rachel to the large, bulky dialysis machine.

For all of the intents and purposes of its usage, the beginning of what could very well become the end is not nearly as exciting as any of the Corcoran's had previously believed it would be.

A flush of disappointment washes across Noah's face as if he had been expecting something so much more elaborate than the thin flush of dark red blood that filters across the tracks of clear tubing like some sort of morbid amusement park ride before sinking directly back inside of Rachel's body.

In a way Shelby can only guess that they all had been.

"How are you feeling, Rachel?" The nurse is barely out of Rachel's room before Shelby begins with her expected yet necessary questioning of Rachel's well being, eternally skeptical of the means by which this new procedure may affect her daughter.

"Fine…" Rachel sighs in her projection of understanding towards what it is that her mother is trying to do, attempting to silently indicate that it is not necessary although Shelby knows that Rachel must understand her own efforts to be futile. "I just started mom."

"I know…" Shelby blinks in her effort to allow Rachel to understand that she knows this just as well as her daughter does but is simply is not good enough for the over concerned mother. "Just keep an eye out for everything that the nurse said before I don't want you hiding anything… I know how you can be, Rachel."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel projects, eyeing Shelby through t her accusation of her, watching her mother carefully as the woman responds in silence; a glare that she is careful to pepper with an extra emphasis of just how serious she is. "Fine, I will… I promise!"

"You better…" Shelby throws in one last additional warning simply for good measure, listening as her family falls into a thick silence. The only sounds inside of the room being the thick mechanical whirring of the dialysis as it filters her daughter's blood for her in a manner that Rachel's own body has seemingly forgotten how to do itself.

Seconds pass that feel like minutes. Shelby finds herself growing increasingly anxious in regards to the lack of noise, her heart pounding in an unexplainable manner as soft beads of sweat begin to glisten across the surface of her forehead, fingertips tapping against the arm rest of her chair; yet another means of making sound if only for the noise.

"Hey look at these," Desperate for a means of breaking the silence, Shelby's tone changes dramatically as her eyes catch the small display case of brochures and informative pamphlets surrounding her in a manner that makes her feel as though she is back inside of the guidance office at William McKinley as opposed to trapped inside of this hospital. "Did you read through any of these, Rachel?"

Shelby plucks a random slip of paper from the multitudes displayed before them, opening the folded pamphlet and forcing herself to take in the information, to relay it onto her children as to keep them both interested and at the same time blissfully distracted.

"No…" Rachel eyes her suspiciously the look on her face silently asking her mother why it is that Shelby would ever believe her to choose to keep busy by focusing on what is easily the most boring set of reading materials alive.

"Look, it's all about your access sites… Remember your doctor mentioning that they may choose to give you an AV fistula later on this week so that you don't have to get stuck with needles all the time?" Shelby continues to ramble, very much so aware of her children eyeing her as if she were crazy as she does so. "That's kind of cool, look it says here that they'll surgically link the vein and artery in your arm together so that you'll have a permanent catheter…"

She flashes Rachel the picture, a close up of the arm of an elderly person whose linked innards display themselves beneath the skin in a grueling manner that almost looks as though a large insect is crawling its way through her body. Shelby finds herself immediately regretting this decision to share this image with her squeamish daughter the second that she sees the look of horrified disgust displaying itself prominently across Rachel's face.

"Oh my God that thing is so ugly…" Rachel sticks her tongue out at the image, imitating the motion of a prominent gag to the extent that she almost actually does make herself throw up in the process. "I already have cancer I don't wanna look like an alien too, mom."

"It can be reversed, Rachel…" Shelby sighs in response to her daughter's characteristic overdramatic behavior, "Besides this isn't a beauty contest. It's about getting you better. It's about what's safer for you just in case you need to be on dialysis for longer than what we all initially anticipated. You heard Dr. McCarthy dialysis is not a healthy long term option for you." Shelby gets sharp in her frustration; a mother's failed attempt towards easing her child's pain.

"Hey look, Rachel…" Noah makes a purposeful distraction, flipping through a pamphlet of his own and the first time that Shelby can remember, she finds herself grateful towards her eternally unaware son. "It says here that dialysis patients need more protein because it flushes all of it out of your body. That means you gotta stop being a stupid freaking vegan now. You gotta start eating real food like bacon and cheeseburgers and stuff."

"That's repulsive, Noah." Rachel's face shrivels in her disgust, Noah's response being nothing more than a satisfied grin associated with the idea that his intentions of nauseating his sister has worked.

"Noah!" Shelby eyes him warningly, watching him carefully as his confident smile drops almost immediately. "Please leave your sister alone."

"Whatever…" Noah rolls his eyes casually, tossing the pamphlet half hazard onto the floor, "I'm bored anyway. Are you almost finished with this crap, Rach?"

"Let's see," Rachel's face screws upwards in mock thought, "I started about five minutes ago so I still have about two hours and fifty five more minutes left to go so… no, I'm not almost finished with this crap."

"Ugh, this is so stupid. How many of these pamphlets do you expect me to read?" Noah throws his arms upwards in his exasperation as his arm gestures towards the twenty or so different booklets that line the far wall, waving one in the air for good measure until something seemingly interesting catches his eye and he pauses to read…

At least she has gotten the attention of one of her children.

"Oh look, it says here that if you don't want to get that fistula thingy in your arm, you can always get one that goes right through your gut."

"Noah, stop!" Rachel wails, "Mom will you please tell your barbarian of a son to stop."

The volume within their small cubicle rises exponentially. Shelby watches as a handful of stray heads peek from the hallway inside of the partially open doorway just to see what it was that is going on inside of this dialysis ward, so peaceful until her children had made their appearance.

"Noah please stop teasing your sister." Shelby delivers the warning but her voice is monotone and lacks crucial meaning. The truth is that as her eyes dart between her two children, watching them heckle each other in a manner that is so typical of the way that Rachel and Noah used to be, she can't help but to fall for the idea that it is almost as if things are back to normal.

"Whatever, she loves it." Noah smiles through his taunting, that famous grin that has gotten him out of so much trouble in the past, the one that he can never seem to slip past either his mother or his sister.

"I do not." Rachel retorts sharply, "Didn't mom ever teach you not to berate the handicapped?"

"You're not handicapped," Noah shoots back the reminder, but Rachel can only roll her eyes and gesture towards the various tubes and wires that filter in and out of her skin in her response.

"I'm a cancer patient on dialysis, what exactly would you call that, Noah?"

And just like that, the blissful sense of normalcy that has infiltrated Shelby's senses is drained alongside Rachel's unintentional reminder that grief and sorrow have a tendency to linger and weigh down your heart while meanwhile any sense of happiness merely tugs you further down with the reminder that it all has to go away eventually.

"Please guys, can we not?" Shelby's voice is no more than a soft murmur, her request going unnoticed by either one of her children.

"You're not even in a wheelchair!" Noah offers his interpretation of the stipulations of their argument, but Rachel merely rolls her eyes at him.

"You don't have to be in a wheelchair in order to be handicapped!"

"Guys!" Shelby's voice triples in its volume, a sharp, staccato roar that has both Rachel and Noah stopping in their tracks, heads turning slowly towards Shelby with an innocence displayed across their faces that Shelby is much to wise and experienced to fall for. "Can we not?"

"Yes m'ame." Their voices are uniform, falling emotionless as their bodies slump in tandem with each other, silence lingering amongst the previously bickering siblings once more.

A knock at the door is the closest thing that they get at excitement all day long.

Shelby's eyes raise curiously, locking upon a small blonde as she cowers inside of the doorway, shuffling nervously as she tucks her arms behind her back.

Inside of a place like this, the girl sticks out like a sore thumb; her face glowing above a frumpy dress the color of blood, highlighted by a black band wrapped around its waist, so familiar in Shelby's years of experience as a show choir director that for a second there, she is almost able to believe herself back to work choreographing dance routines and perfected the flat notes of amateur high school singers rather than sitting inside of a hospital coaching her daughter through her first dialysis session.

At first when she sees Quinn Fabray standing inside of the doorway she thinks nothing of it. It is a full minute before Shelby processes the idea that Quinn of all people is the first to come and visit her daughter fresh from Regionals, bearing the burden of news.

"Hi…" Quinn mutters, clearly uncomfortable as Rachel perks from her position inside of her bed, clearly excited to see the link between her and the Regional results standing directly in front of her.

Shelby takes one look at Quinn however and immediately understands that Rachel best not be getting her hopes up.

"Quinn…" Rachel breathes and in an instant, Shelby finds her heart panging alongside the expression of her daughter's excitement as Rachel sits up so quickly that she damn near rips the life sustaining machine that is currently filtering her blood in and out of frail body directly from its vital attachment pieces.

"Rachel…" Shelby's warning comes naturally, low yet forceful enough that Rachel immediately stands her ground, sitting back down and wincing as her free hand naturally falls to the access ports inside of her arm, testing their strength against the ability to withstand such a forceful pull.

"How was Regionals?" Rachel doesn't linger, never being one to stall. The second that she deduces that there is no lasting damage to be done, Rachel decides that it is time for answers. And when Rachel wants answers, she knows that she will be hard pressed not to get them.

But Quinn does not reciprocate Rachel's enthusiasm, she does not respond immediately. Instead, she takes her time, making it a point to carefully scuff the toes of her flats into the tile ground below her feet as her eyes dart nervously, strategically avoiding those of every other occupant inside of the room.

The protective mother stares directly through the girl with the reputation of having had made her daughter's life such a living hell for all of these years with an uncertain judgment.

Despite a handful of glee performances and catching a glimpse of her on the sidelines of the Titans football games, the last time that Shelby had ever really gotten a good look of Quinn Fabray was the day that she had been called by the Chester A. Arthur Middle School's principal, asking her to please come and pick up her daughter, suspended for punching the blonde during gym for calling her the bastard prodigy of a closeted gay man in front of the entire class.

Shelby is more than aware of the fact that the girl's upbringing has been far from ideal. The Fabray's had a notorious reputation about Lima for being ruthless while at the same time possessing enough power about the community so that nobody could ever do anything about it, but for the time being Rachel seems to be trusting of Quinn, willing to make amends for the childish pranks that Quinn has apparently grown out of faster than her own parents.

Shelby trusts her daughter's judgment, and for now this is all that she has to go on.

"Quinn…" Rachel's face falls as she pushes for the blonde to make haste with her answers. This time, her voice falters slightly alongside the acknowledgment that the rest of them already know.

Rachel it seems was the last to hold onto the hope that the news may be good, just like she always was.

"Well… without Noah performing today we kind of got in a bit of a jam looking for a twelfth member again…" The idea had never so much as crossed Noah's mind. She had already known that in the absence of Rachel, the glee club had managed to recruit Jacob Ben-Israel largely in part to Santana's expertise in the art of blackmail, but still, Jacob was already a less than stellar find and Shelby should have known that they would be hard pressed to find another one of him floating around. That boy was one of a kind, that was for damn certain. "We managed to pull through with Suzy Pepper… and Jacob."

The look of realization that dawns upon Rachel's face is enough to shatter Shelby's heart into a million pieces.

"Oh no…" Rachel expresses the imminent doom with nothing more than a soft whisper. Her voice sounds as though it is a thousand miles away, so unlike her daughter to allow for her song to resound softer with each passing day as her heart slowly begins to grow much too heavy to allow for actual words.

"I'm sorry Rachel, Santana never showed this morning. Even with Jacob and Suzy filling in for you and Noah we were still a member short. They wouldn't let us perform."

"No, no, no…" Rachel shakes her head, repeated her disbelief over and over. "This is all my fault."

For a short second, Shelby does not even process the plunge of her daughter's head as her chin falls to her chest in her guilt. Her acute attention manages to pinpoint briefly on Quinn's choice of words… _Santana never showed_.

"No it isn't." Before Shelby can snap back to the attention of the devastation brought on by a guilty conscious weighing heavily upon Rachel's face, Quinn's voice projects confidently in her assurance that Rachel is not to blame for this; that Quinn did not believe it to be her fault, nor did the rest of the glee club. "It's nobody's fault."

"Santana didn't show up?" Noah projects his own thoughts of disbelief, hung up on Santana's unusual display of disloyalty, so unlike her. Shelby cannot lie and say that she had not been shocked by the news as well.

"No…" Quinn breathes through a soft shake of her head, "Nobody's been able to get in touch with her all day."

"Well where the hell was she?" His emotions push him into an angry rant focused upon Santana. Shelby is not entirely surprised; her son has always been brash, finding it easy to jump to the conclusion that would only frustrate him more. Unlike Rachel, he feels no guilt of his own and unlike Shelby it is not worry that courses through his veins but disappointment towards the fate of the club that has surprisingly offered him so much.

"Noah…" Shelby warns her son quietly to calm down but his eyes only narrow as they turn to her, silently indicating his belief that he has every right to be angry.

"Mr. Schuester thought that it was just Santana being Santana… That she was pissed about something that somebody did and decided to take it out on the whole club." Quinn interferes between the budding argument that Noah is attempting to brew, her face indicating that her teacher's theory is not one that she supports. "But you know how Mr. Schue tends to be quick with his assumptions."

"Do you know how Santana has been doing since she moved back in with her parents?" Shelby watches as the girl flinches slightly towards the acknowledgment of Shelby addressing her for what both is absolutely certain is the first time in either of their lives. But Shelby immediately pushes aside past feelings, her thoughts wandering back to the brief image of the young Latina that she had caught only just that morning…

She had believed something to be off inside the girl then. Santana had been distant, depressed. Missing Regionals could not have been a choice that Santana had come to on her own, there had to be some sort of interference and Shelby had an idea of where to start.

Her parents had clearly never supported their daughter. No loving parent in their right mind could ever kick their child out of their home for something as entirely devoid of Santana's own control as who she chose to love. As hesitant as Shelby had been of the idea of Santana moving in with them at first, she had been even more skeptical of Santana going back home.

There was something strange going on here.

"I don't know," Quinn admits through an exasperated sigh, "Ever since she went back home she hasn't really been talking to much of anybody anymore. These days she mostly just sticks to herself. She barely comes to glee, she just goes to school and Cheerios but even there she isn't the same."

"What do you thinks going on with her?" Noah scratches his head, projecting his own concern towards his ex.

"I have no idea." Quinn informs him, even one of Santana's best friends left in the dark by a shrouded mystery, "Not even Brittney knows. Santana broke up with her a few days ago and then there was nothing."

"I'll talk to her." Noah projects his intentions, all of which seem well but Shelby is still skeptical. She has the slightest feeling that whatever it is that is going on inside of Santana's head or her home is going to take a lot more to come up than a little bit of coercing from her overly enthusiastic son.

"Rachel…" Her attention is detracted away from Santana and back onto her own daughter as Rachel's doctor peers through the slightly ajar doorway of the cramped private cubicle before deeming it safe to enter, "How's your first dialysis session treating you?"

"So far so good," Rachel promises, offering the man a polite smile although the motion never truly reaches to the rest of her face as if to silently inform him that her reality says that she is doing as well as she possibly can be doing whilst having the entirety of her blood content filtered out of and back into her body.

"Good, that's good…" He nods, but the movement is absent. In a stark change of pace, he chooses not to linger on Rachel, "Actually believe it or not I'm actually here to talk to Noah." The boy's head shoots upwards, suddenly interested as the conversation detracts from Noah's initial presumption that this will be yet another conversation focusing on his sister. "The initial blood samples that we took confirm that you're a suitable kidney donor for Rachel, Noah."

The small Corcoran trio eye each other with an intensity that expresses clearly the perfect clash between excitement and worry. It wasn't as if they did not know what the implications involved with Noah being tested as a potential donor for Rachel were, the future that it could possibly bring. But seeing the possibility directly before their very eyes suddenly made this entire experience a very distinct possibility, almost horrifyingly so.

He would be losing a piece of him.

The fact of the matter is that Noah is signing himself up to voluntarily lose a part of his body and the fact that he seems so casual in his selflessness worries Shelby into thinking that he cannot possibly consider the consequences of surgery over the immediate goal of saving Rachel's life.

It is not as though Shelby is not eternally grateful for Noah's selfless, heroic decision. And it isn't like she doesn't want to see Rachel get healthy once more. The truth is that she wants absolutely nothing more than for her daughter to be well again, but still, Shelby Corcoran is the mother to _two _children and it is her eternal job to worry and care for the both of them.

And if anything, Noah's injury has only made her hyper acute of his well beings as well as Rachel's.

"Now of course, this is just the first step of many." Dr. McCarthy continues. "First things first Noah, I would like to schedule you for a full physical to ensure that you're strong enough to withstand a surgery of this magnitude.

"Where do I sign up?" Shelby bites her tongue against telling her son to calm down, against reminding him that these doctors are not quite ready to bring him upstairs and place him on the operating table just yet.

His hastiness is scaring her. Things were moving much too quickly. They were not ready for this.

It breaks a little piece of her, the reminder that there is not much of a choice.

"Come on…" Shelby can't help the soft choking sob that escapes from the back of her throat when the doctor indicates towards Noah with his hands for the boy to follow him outside and into the hallway. For a second, Shelby's lapse of judgment as her thinking that despite her previous insistencies otherwise, that maybe they were ready to get Noah upstairs and onto the operating table after all.

She immediately takes back her initial thoughts that their family was not ready for this. The truth is that they were ready for this it was _her_ that was not.

She is certain that no matter how long it takes, she never will be.

"I'll come with you, Noah." Shelby shoots to her feet with perhaps too much of a sense of urgency, wrapping her purse tight about her shoulder and clutching onto the strap until the knuckles of her right hand turn blue. When she turns towards her daughter, she attempts to put as casual a look as humanly possible upon her face. "Will you be okay here by yourself for a little while?"

"I'll stay with her Mrs. Corcoran." The confident assurance of Quinn Fabray turns into a quiet uncertainty the second that Shelby whips around in order to eye the girl… Shelby can see the look inside of her face; Quinn is under the impression that Shelby is judging her. The truth is that Shelby does not have the time to judge and that she can care less about the past of anybody that is willing to help her family in this remarkable time of need.

"Thank you Quinn." Shelby attempts to sound soft and gentle in her gratitude, but she is tense and afraid in a manner that resonates clearly inside of her voice. Shelby briefly hopes that Quinn will not take this too personally, but the thought escapes her mind quickly; she doesn't have the time to worry about much of anything else.

After all of Shelby's fears and concerns, the short and painless process of scheduling Noah for nothing more than a mere physical more than a week away leaves Shelby feeling foolish in her expression of warrantless concern.

It had taken five minutes at best, but still it left a mark on Shelby in the reminder that her son was no longer a child, that in a matter of mere months he would be turning eighteen, graduating from high school and going on to do whatever it is that his heart desires… The scholarship offer that is still sitting against the bottom of Shelby's garbage can at home serves as a stark reminder of just how capable Noah is of making his own informed decisions. Here Noah is, signing a piece of himself away to his little sister and Shelby is concerned about him playing football.

Guilt courses inside of Shelby's veins. _She_ is not good enough to be the donor that her daughter needs, leaving her son to pick up the slack that she should be more than capable of carrying. _She_ wasn't strong enough to tell Noah that everything that he has ever dreamed of was currently sitting inside of an envelope beneath some old coffee grinds and banana peels.

"You okay, ma?"

Shelby turns up watching as her infinitely taller son approaches her so casually that you couldn't possibly believe all of the things that he is currently going through. His hands are stuffed deep inside of his pockets, his head tilted slightly to the side in his inquiry.

It is supposed to be Shelby that is asking him that.

"How are you feeling?" Shelby ignores her son's question, instead choosing to deliver one of her own.

"What do you mean?" Noah's eyebrows arch in his confusion as he finds himself taken slightly aback by his mother's sudden deviation from the answers that he had expected of her.

"I mean that this is a big choice, Noah." Shelby breathes out her concerns, watching as her son immediately shakes his head against her words looking to be in thorough disbelief of everything that his mother is saying to him; the one person that he had believed would be supporting him the most blinded by an expression of second thoughts.

"It's not a choice." Noah shakes his head immediately, his voice raising as the head rushes upon his face in a flush of read. Shelby's eyes turn downwards, placing her hands high in the air as to silently indicate for her son to calm down and listen to what she has to say.

"Yes it is…"

"Not when it may be the only thing that's gonna save Rachel's life it's not!" All around them passing patrons and personnel stare briefly before they avert their eyes. Shelby winces. The last thing that she needs right now is obnoxiously curious strangers trying to gain a hand on the ins and outs of their personal lives.

"I'm not saying that I'm not eternally grateful for what it is that you are willing to do for your sister, Noah." Shelby shakes her head against her son's defensive behavior that develops naturally under his false impression that Shelby is attempting to convince him to back out, "I'm just saying that this surgery is a huge commitment. There are implications here. It isn't just about taking your kidney out of your body and placing it inside of Rachel's. We need to consider the consequences, what this can mean for Rachel's future, what it can mean for _your_ future… We need to take our time here, Noah."

"I'm not sure that you noticed mom, but time isn't exactly on our side." Shelby retreats in response to Noah's harsh wards. The second that they escape his mouth, Shelby watches as he winces in his personal disappointment towards his lack of control.

"I'm sorry…" He retracts his previous statements, shaking his head in his apology, sparing Shelby the need of coming up with something to say when clearly she had nothing. "I'm sure about this mom, okay. I promise."

"Okay…" Shelby nods her head. She doesn't want to push Noah, not here not now, not with a hundred people surrounding them and her daughter within ear shot right around the corner anyway. She will talk to Noah later.

_Later…_

"Listen, I'm gonna go get something to eat. Do you want anything?" He needs his space, Shelby knows her son well enough to understand that his retreat into the cafeteria is simply a ploy for him to get the breathing room that he needs.

"Surprise me." She tells him as she attempts to offer Noah as much of a smile as she can possibly manage, more than aware of the fact that it comes out as nothing more than a grimace.

"Okay…" Noah leans forwards, kissing Shelby's cheek lightly. "I'll be right back."

Shelby watches her son out but she chooses not to linger. She does not want to have to stay here any longer than what she has already been forced to commit to, beneath this unfamiliar room, these judgmental eyes all around her…

Instead, Shelby follows the familiar path back to Rachel, her eyes expertly trained on the ground avoiding everything and everyone until she can find her way back inside of the half closed doorway leading inside of Rachel's private room.

"I haven't heard from him in over a week, Quinn."

Her daughter's disheartened voice stops Shelby dead in her tracks, forcing her to linger in the hallway, listening in to the pain that lingers deep inside of every word that she speaks.

"He hasn't visited me since I've been back in the hospital. He won't even answer my texts." The vulnerability brought on by about of illness, enhanced by its projection has Rachel spilling her heart to the girl that she has once perceived to be one of her most mortal of enemies.

"That's just kind of how he is…" Quinn reciprocates with some uncertain advice but it is clear that she has no idea what it is that she should be saying…

Finn; they had to be talking about Finn. Shelby has not exactly been oblivious to the idea that he has not shown his face since Shelby had caught him in bed with her daughter on Rachel's birthday, but she had chosen not to ask about it. The mother has more things to concern herself over other than high school relationships. Somehow, Rachel's physical stability always had a tendency to override the emotional… Shelby can only assume that this is where Quinn comes into play.

"I'm sorry…" Shelby listens as her daughter apologizes sadly, "This must be an awkward conversation for you to be having."

"No, it's okay." Quinn quickly disregards Rachel's comment, clearly gaining momentum alongside the progression of their conversation. "Listen, I messed Finn up pretty badly after we broke up. It's gonna be a little while before he's comfortable again. Besides, Finn isn't exactly the type of guy that runs around and expresses his emotions. He has a tendency to hide inside of himself when the going gets tough."

"I wish that he would just talk to me."

"He's a Cancer…" Quinn laughs, but Shelby raises her eyebrows silently towards the girl's comment. She can tell by the silence that permeates within the air between them that Rachel is reacting in a very similar manner…

Shelby does not know whether to be offended or amused.

"What?"

"A Cancer," Quinn repeats herself with a laugh, clearly understanding the means by which Rachel has perceived her words in comparison to how she meant them. "You know, like the zodiac sign?"

Realization dawns inside of Shelby's eyes, what she had previously believed to be a poorly placed joke transforming into a clearer understanding that leaves her feeling foolish for ever believing anything else.

"You're into astrology?" Rachel asks, sounding confused as if this unexpected bit of information had been the very last thing that she'd ever thought Quinn to say.

"Not really…" The blonde shrugs, but her words do not compliment anything that she has previously informed Rachel of.

"I'm a Sagittarius…" Rachel's comment is breezy and offhand. Shelby is certain that she will never be able to get used to the casual means by which her daughter is suddenly striking up conversation with Quinn Fabray.

"That's right. It was just your birthday wasn't it?"

"On Wednesday…" Rachel nods.

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"Don't be, it was a pretty crappy birthday anyway. I just ended up in here." Shelby shudders with the mere reminder of the means by which she had found Rachel the morning following her birthday, shaking and sputtering with the pains that had put her inside of this place that she was in to begin with. "You know, sometimes I think that I was destined to be a Cancer…"

"That's not funny," Quinn echoes everything that Shelby is thinking in regards to Rachel's incredibly ill ridden joke, but unlike the stern mother, the blonde giggles in her response, a soft, genuine laugh that lingers inside of Shelby's ears, leaving the woman eternally jealous of anybody that can still produce such a beautiful noise. "Sagittarius is fitting for you anyway. You've got a strong sense o yourself. Did you know that Sagittarius is the sign that is most likely to be successful?"

"I thought that you weren't really that into astrology." Rachel challenges Quinn's previous words in a manner that her daughter excels at.

"You do know that Cancer and Sagittarius are mismatched signs, right?" Quinn all but ignores Rachel calling her out, her response echoing in the manner by which she carries on talking about a subject that she claims to be only loosely educated in.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that it was doomed before it ever even started." Quinn laughs once more and even through the thick doorframe that she hides behind, Shelby can hear the ghost of a similar motion fall from beyond Rachel's lips… The sound is soft, choked and short. It doesn't linger nearly as long as Shelby ever would have liked as she allows herself to fall serenely inside of it.

"What are you?"

"Aquarius," Quinn responds, "February 3rd… That's my birthday."

"Are our signs mismatched?" Through the small opening inside of the door, Shelby watches as her daughter picks at a handful of stray strings on the sweatpants that she adorns as if embarrassed to be asking the blonde this question when she knows their history just as well as the rest of them do.

"What do you think?" Quinn's response is snarky, yet at the same time not in a spiteful or disheartening way.

"We didn't really kick off to that great a start, I guess."

"Our signs are compatible," Quinn eventually nods, "But at the same time, we're both independent and stubborn and temperamental in nature. It makes it harder for us to bond with people. It takes us longer to gain a sense of trust. But when it finally does happen, they tend to be close.

"I guess that makes sense…" Rachel breathes a required agreement although Shelby can tell simply by the tone in her voice that she can't seem to grasp this vast, serene concept; fate dictating her personality, her future, herself…

"You just have to hold onto the hope that Finn will come around once things settle in again." Quinn assures her jutting a pale hand outwards so that it is perceived that her intentions are to grasp supportively at Rachel's bent knee… She backs off against the touch at the last minute, choosing instead to grasp onto the arm rest of her newfound friend's chair.

"I thought that you said that me and Finn were mismatched signs?" Rachel arches her eyebrow, confused as to which side of Quinn's elaborate knowledge she should be listening to.

"Everybody knows that that shit isn't real."

There is a sudden, sharp breath that Shelby can tell emanates from the back of Rachel's throat. For a brief second, Shelby confuses it for a laugh; when it only lingers, gradually turning into a suffocating gasp, Shelby's heart jumps up and inside of her throat.

She has heard this sound enough times before to understand what it means. There are two possible explanations. Either Rachel has become overwhelmed by a sudden, sweeping bout of pain or she has been trying to hide her agony for God only knows how long only to find it growing too intense for even her to handle without slipping up with a physical response.

Knowing her daughter, Shelby is willing to bet on the latter.

Either way, the noise is enough to allow Shelby to decide that her opportunity to sit and linger as a mere observer is over. She turns inside of Rachel's bedroom just in time to watch as she girl writhes uncomfortably inside of her seat, Quinn leaping upwards with a surprised inexperience towards just how quickly things can change from casual to tragic.

"Rachel, are you okay?" Shelby makes her presence known in her immediate questioning of her daughter. She is not even at Rachel's side yet before she is shrouding the girl with questions, her watchful eyes scanning quickly, yet accurately for a physical explanation towards Rachel's pain only to come up empty.

"I'm fine…" Rachel insists, but her breathy moans and the large gap that lingers between her words are not entirely convincing.

Rachel doubles over at the waist, her taut stomach tensing in a familiar matter that displays their natural attempt to block the sudden onslaught of pain that has even managed to overwhelm their experienced muscles. "I've just… my stomach has been cramping all day, even before I started dialysis and my head… my head just started spinning a little bit, but they said that this might happen, remember mom? From all of the fluid that I'm losing during dialysis…"

"I'm gonna get a nurse to come and check you out anyway just in case…"Rachel passes her pain off easily but Shelby errs with the side of caution because this is her job.

She turns towards the hallway, stopped in her tracks only by a sharp, sudden beep originating from where her daughter lay… Her head turns instinctively about her shoulder, eyes darting towards the source, the large machine besides Rachel flashing the young girl's blood pressure in large, blood letters projecting a warning to all, just how dangerous the rapid pace by which it has since dropped truly is.

Shelby's eyes catch the identical ones of her daughter as they stare at each other with a concerned uncertainty towards the meaning behind such an abrupt change… Suddenly, Shelby is having profound second thoughts about leaving Rachel's side.

She can't do it, not like this.

Shelby turns towards Quinn, the frightened and confused blonde looking for answers that both Rachel and Shelby know neither can bring. She understands nothing beyond the mutual agreement that something was horribly wrong.

"Quinn, will you please go to the front desk right outside here and get a nurse. Any nurse." Even Shelby is surprised at just how calm her voice sounds. Inside, her head is spinning with worry but from the outside, her directions are projected with ease and are followed just as such. The blonde does not hesitate, only offers a soft nod before darting from the room with the intentions of following Shelby's orders to the exact.

Rachel's eyes worriedly follow her newfound friend as the girl makes her hasty exit, blonde hair whipping in the wind of her running tide behind her. Tears filter beneath the young girl's eyes, her breathing increasing exponentially inside of her throat until eventually the action gets stuck and simply manages to stop all together.

"Hey, look at me honey…" Shelby jumps forward in her response, grasping at the underside of Rachel's chin as she directs her daughter's eyes onto her own, watching as cycle after cycle of new tears form. The familiar, overwhelming pressure behind her own eyes builds up furiously inside of Shelby's own head. But right now, Shelby knows that her eyes need to remain dry, if anything for the sake of her child. "You need to breathe Rachel, okay. You need to calm down and try and take nice slow deep breaths."

"I don't know what happened…" Rachel adheres to her mother's orders, gasping between a series of short half breaths that escape in the form of painful wheezes against the back of her throat as she attempts to speak with no air inside of her lungs to assist the motion. "I was fine a minute ago."

"It's okay Rachel, it's okay…" Shelby shakes her head against Rachel's projected apology towards her sudden onslaught of illness, her hand moving in soothing circles against the width of the girl's frail back. She can feel beneath her palm, the muscles lining Rachel's rib cage quivering as she attempts to regain their sole control, silently begging her hands to acquire a magical healing power that she may push through her daughter's thick skin in order to make her well once more. "Look at me; you're probably just a little bit dehydrated, okay? The nurse's will come right in, they'll give you some extra fluids and in a couple of minutes you're going to be good as new."

"Good as new…" Rachel breathes, her eyes darkening as she repeats her mother's promise… She doesn't believe her. Shelby swallows alongside the understanding that Rachel has absolutely no reason _to_ believe her. "Right…"

"Hey Rachel, what's going on in here?" The nurse that had established the treatment that has put Rachel in this predicament to begin with turns back inside of the room. Shelby watches as Rachel shrinks instinctively, conditioning having taught her to fear the staff of this hospital alongside the understanding that the only thing that they do is bring her pain.

"Where did Quinn go?" Rachel shudders as her eyes dart about the room, immediately noticing that the blonde has not followed the nurse back inside.

Shelby's heart falls with the recognition of Rachel placing her priorities in an order that Shelby does not particularly agree with. But friends have always been something that Rachel struggled with. When she was a child, she had always been known as that sick girl that could never go to school or play. By the time of her return, established friendships have already been made and Rachel's reputation set in stone.

Every time Rachel sees potential in a new companion, she clutches onto them and holds on tight.

Shelby would like to believe that the only thing that Rachel needed in her life was her mother, but she is smart enough to know that this is not how things like this work. As reluctant as she may be to acknowledge the fact that her little girl is growing up, and as terrified as she is to allow Rachel to spread her wings and fly, Shelby can only assume that this is simply a choice that every parent has to make eventually.

"Was that your friend?" The nurse questions Rachel as she multitasks, fidgeting with the various machinery before her in a manner so rapid that it makes Shelby's head spin just trying to follow along, "She's waiting right outside. She can come back inside once you're finally settled, alright?"

"Okay…" Rachel relaxes but only slightly, concentrating on her shaky breathing as she inhales steeply through her noise before pushing the precious air slowly back out of her mouth.

"Now why don't you tell me what's going on here?"

"She said that her stomach was cramping." Shelby answers for her daughter, understanding full well that Rachel is not entirely capable of committing to the motion in an appropriate time frame that Shelby has deemed acceptable. She rushes; Shelby decides to place an extra emphasis on everything because when it comes down to Rachel's health she cannot take anybody's word for it… not even Rachel's.

"And a headache," Rachel adds, squinting prominently against the overhead lighting that dangles above her as she speaks, "I have a really bad headache."

"Alright, on a scale of one to ten how's your pain?" The nurse looks down at her chart, scribbling furiously against her clipboard, the symptoms that Rachel provided as they compare to the flashing numbers dancing across the monitors before her; the physical evidence versus the circumstantial.

"I don't know…" Rachel scrunches her face momentarily as she thinks hard about her answer, "A five… six maybe."

"Okay… Well your blood pressure is a little bit low. Not low enough that we'll have to stop your dialysis midway but still a little bit lower than what I would prefer." Shelby tenses in regards to the nurse's words, her hands squeezing tighter against Rachel's own as fear overtakes her. She wishes more than anything that she could take all of this pain away, just like any other mother would want to do for their child, but she can't and the idea alone is enough to kill her. "Here's what I'm gonna do; I know that you're not going to like this but we're going to slow the whole dialysis process down a little bit. You're losing fluids much too quickly, fluids that you simply can't afford to lose. You'' be stuck in here for another hour or so but it'll be worth it when you don't feel like a truck hit you."

"What about saline?" Shelby makes the suggestion; desperate for a contribution that can at least help her to believe that she is not nearly as worthless as what she is feeling right about now.

"We don't often feel particularly comfortable giving dialysis patients direct saline beyond what is already filtered through the dialysis system." The nurse shakes her head against Shelby's suggestion leaving the mother to deflate once more in her distinct lack of contribution towards healing her daughter's pain. "Removing things like excess salt is a large purpose of the dialysis in general. Placing these salts directly back into her system isn't exactly recommended unless absolutely necessary… Oxygen therapy in a hyperbaric chamber is always an option."

"I don't wanna do that…" Rachel is quick to voice her distaste in this idea, burying the back of her head deeper inside of the makeshift bed that she lays inside of.

"It'll make you feel better, sweetie…" Shelby insists, attempting to persuade her daughter by instilling a sense of confidence inside of the young girl, rubbing a soft yet firm hand gently up and down the arm devoid of the needles that are supposed to be saving her life although the impression that Shelby gets revolves around the idea that they are merely making things worse.

"I'll page her doctor," The nurse settles for the compromise, respectful in her understanding that Rachel does not want to be tied down to this bed anymore or any longer than she already had to be. "We'll see if we can come up with a more long term plan together. In the mean time, we'll just have to keep a more careful eye on her pressure. If it gets any lower than where it is now, we might have to stop the dialysis for today."

The nurse's eyes glisten with a hint of apologetic sadness. Shelby can see it inside of her face the longer she looks. It is a confirmation towards everything that Shelby already knows despite the idea that there is not a single human being in the entirety of this world that is brave enough to tell it to her face…

That Rachel will not be able to withstand dialysis treatments in her condition for much longer.

"In the meantime I'm going to get you a little something to drink, Rach." The woman's tone shifts after but a brief moment of silence only slightly longer than what was necessary. She speaks with a false cheeriness behind her voice that makes Shelby cringe. Her family is smart, her family is informed. Treating them like a bunch of schmucks that cannot possibly handle the truth is not pleading well for her case.

"Are you sure that that's safe?" Shelby is hyper aware of everything that is going on inside of her daughter's body, perhaps even more so than her daughter herself. She is tired of taking chances when it came to Rachel's health. She is sick of trusting people fluttering around her and preaching incessantly about good news only to follow up by pelting her with the bad.

"Oh yeah Mrs. Corcoran; Rachel is still cleared to consume a couple of ounces of fluid before her session is complete. A little bit of Gatorade might do her well," The nurse offers Shelby a smile that the mother simply cannot bring herself to reciprocate before turning out of the room with the assurance of a rapid return.

Shelby's eyes follow the woman carefully and only then does she truly realize how young the girl really is. The longer that Shelby looks at her, the more accurately it seems that she can pinpoint her every flaw.

She looks to be no older than her mid twenties, right out of college if not still a student just making her way through the last of her clinical rounds. Shelby is halfway to following her out into the hall simply to insist upon seeing her certification as a qualified registered nurse when a soft muttering that sounds suspiciously like Rachel calling her name has her forgetting about this nurse in her entirety.

Shelby turns towards Rachel. The girl looks absolutely miserable as she strains her head against the pillow, half lidded eyes poised forwards towards her mother, silently begging Shelby to forget about this nurse despite it being so obvious that she is way too under qualified to be caring for something as precious to Shelby as her daughter and to come take matters into her own hands instead.

"Are you feeling any better honey?" Shelby shifts rapidly from the doorway, her tone changing with a remarkable distinction as she makes the transformation from slightly psychotic private investigator to overly concerned mother.

"Not yet…" Rachel grimaces, reaching upwards to rub gently at her temples as she squints against the pain that she cannot seem to ebb out of her head no matter how hard she tries.

"Okay, okay just be patient… It will happen soon honey." Shelby knows almost as well as Rachel does that this is a task that is easier said than done. She reaches forwards in her attempts to enact a sense of comfort, her hand latching onto Rachel's knee before squeezing gently.

Not even she believes the words that are coming out of her own mouth.

"Do you think that I scared Quinn away?" Rachel closes her eyes, leaning backwards against her chair as she attempts to concentrate on her breathing. Beneath closed eyelids, Shelby watches as Rachel's day cumulates in the form of a stray tear that slips from beneath thick eyelashes and down her cheek. Rachel pretends not to notice the wet droplet, but Shelby reaches upwards and wipes it away with the pad of her thumb anyway.

"I'm sure that she'll be back." Shelby answers Rachel honestly, choosing not to comment on her daughter's tears although each one tug at her heart beyond any sense of logical comprehension.

"I hope so…" Rachel breathes and Shelby can hear her daughter drifting away, her body enacting upon its expert training to conditionally shut itself down in response to such a constant sense of overwhelming pain. "I like having a friend around.

"You have me."

"You don't count," Rachel informs her, her pale lips tilting upwards in a smile as if to display that this statement is indeed a joke. Shelby doesn't find it to be funny; instead her heart skips a clear beat inside of her chest. "You're my mom you have to be here."

"It's only because I love you." Shelby informs Rachel under her breath but the only response that she receives in return is the sound of heavy breathing originating from her daughter's flaccid body indicating that Rachel has finally succumbed to a sleep deep enough to allow her to block the pain that is constantly chewing away at her fragile body… for now anyway.

Shelby stands to her feet, her natural maternal instinct taking over rapidly as she automatically reaches for the spare blanket in the wardrobe at the corner of the room and drapes it over her sleeping child's body.

"Sleep baby…" Shelby whispers to nobody in particular, leaning forwards to plant a kiss at the line between Rachel's hat and her forehead; an eyebrow that is no longer there. She pays an extra attention towards tucking the sheets snug beneath Rachel's body, moving in her expert, fluid motions alongside the gracious opportunity that Rachel has found a chance to rest her constantly weary eyes –

But just the slightest hint of jealousy towards the idea that it will be long time coming before Shelby will be able to find an opportunity to say the same.

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><p><strong>Real quick shout out to the people that let me know that the website was acting funky. Sorry for the delay in that last chapter again hopefully this one will go off without a hitch.<strong>

**Nina** - **Thank you! Sorry to keep you waiting, but I'm glad you're enjoying so far!**

**Miriami**** – Wow, thank you again I don't know what else to say! Eleven chapters left technically :) Don't hate me too much! I'm considering a sequel but I also have another idea floating around in my head, we'll see. I'll send you a PM so I don't get too spoilery over here!**

**Just Me**** – Oh yay! I'm so glad you stumbled upon it! Please make sure that you remember to keep eating and sleeping though :) I'm honored by your words, really! Haha, I know all too well what it's like to get used to reading chapter after chapter. It makes waiting suck that much harder, hope it wasn't too bad! Thank you for everything!**

**Amandaes417**** – Thank you!**

**FlatWeasley**** – Aww, sorry to make you cry! I can't promise you too much, you might wanna keep those tissues out!**

**Clara_Meliza**** – Yay! Sorry that it got so messed up!**


	41. Noah Corcoran January 2012 Part I

**I surprisingly enough do not have much to say this time around. Just a big thank you to everybody that has stuck around with me for this long!  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – January 2012  
><em>(Part I)<em>

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><p>There is a pounding inside of his head that does not seem to want to go away.<p>

Three weeks beyond his concussive state, Noah is more than aware that a little bit of pain is par for the course. But he also knows that at this stage in the game, he should be well past agony this severe or this frequent.

More common lately, Noah has found himself struggling to distinguish whether this truly is a product of his injury or if it is merely a result of the chronic stress that he and his family have been forever destined to be burdened with… Who knew, maybe it is even both.

Resting his fork back down against the table top, Noah lifts his hands gently in an effort to rub at his temples, desperately willing the throbbing headache away to no avail. He forces himself to concentrate on his goal of relief, a solution in mind that he must first guarantee absolute solitude to carry through.

His ears twitch as he focuses them upwards towards the sound of running water stemming from the upstairs bathroom, indicating that his mother was still safely inside of the shower, indicating that he is safe.

Still, Noah makes quick of his motions, reaching inside of his backpack where he digs only briefly through the small hidden compartment for his godsend, coming in the form of a small, orange plastic bottle.

Noah unscrews the child lock with an experienced ease, safety precautions such as these having not fooled him since elementary school. Dumping two pills inside of his open palm, he swallows them down whole, satisfied by the dry capsules sliding their way down his throat.

Just last week, Noah's doctor had refused his request to fill out his inadequate Percocet prescription, forcing him to dig underground for William McKinley's local drug dealer, Michael Glover. Noah can only imagine what his mother would say if she ever found out that he was buying prescription pills at ten dollars apiece behind the high school gym, but for the relief that they dealt, it was a risk that he is more than willing to take.

Noah's muscles relax instantaneously, his fingers seemingly moving on their own accord as he drums steadily against the table top, staring blankly ahead at the wall as he allows for the familiar sensation of warmth and comfort to fill him from his head down into his very toes. He grows fidgety; sharp, jerking motions overtaking his body as his eyes zone in upon the untouched bowl of cereal before him, his appetite having dramatically waned away every since he'd began increasing his dosage of synthetic pain killers.

"Noah can you get the phone?"

He hears his mother's voice yelling at him from the top of the stairs before he even hears the house phone blaring inside of his ears. There is a rush inside of her voice. Noah already knows that lately, Shelby has begun considering every moment that she is not at sitting at the hospital with Rachel a moment wasted… more so, even than usual.

She begins her latest round of chemotherapy today. This combined with her continued dialysis and Rachel has everybody within a mile radius holding their breaths just to see what is going to happen. Nobody has been saying very much in terms of Rachel's progress – not even Shelby – but Noah can tell by their collective silence combined with the way that Rachel has been looking in these past couple of weeks that things are not going nearly as well as any of them would like.

The only good news that they _have_ seemed to have gotten since Rachel started dialysis is that Noah's official approval as an eligible kidney donor came through early last week, giving them the green light to resort to their last possible option.

"Hello?" Noah breathes heavily into the phone, attempting to steady his voice, steering it away from the chronic haze that his medication seems to be constantly leaving him in.

"Noah Corcoran?" His brows furrow against the center of his forehead as his cloudy brain attempts to place the gruff, unfamiliar voice with little success.

"Um… this is him."

"Hi, this is Paul Martin, I'm the athletic director over at Wittenberg College," The explanation if anything, only leaves Noah more confused; a man that Noah has never heard of calling from a college that he didn't even know existed asking to speak with him. "I'm just calling to check in on you, first things first how are you feeling? I heard that you received quite the injury after States."

"Yeah, uh… I'm okay. I'm going to be fine." He stutters only briefly before regaining his ground, embarking upon his familiar expertise to charm inside of new territory. "I'm feeling much better actually."

"Good, that's great…" He breathes almost airily, his voice jumping in his excitement as he rushes to get through to the point of this early morning phone call, "Listen Noah, what I am really calling to ask you is whether or not you've had a chance to look over the terms of the scholarship packet that we sent you through the mail."

Noah's immediate response catches heavily inside of his throat, emitting in the form of a painful gasp for air as he stammers briefly over absolutely nothing, both elated as well as remarkably confused as he attempts and fails not to get his hopes too high.

"I'm sorry… s-scholarship packet?" Noah manages to breathe only after an extended silence that seems to have lasted hours.

"You never received it?"

"No…" Noah's voice falters with the realization that this may be nothing more than one large misunderstanding. He is already smacking himself upside the head mentally for getting so excited over something that he should have known is too good to ever be true.

"Oh well, it must have been lost in the mail." The man throws Noah's confusion casually aside, choosing not to react with the same panic that Noah had. "Well then let me be the first to offer you a congratulations. I understand that you have had some rough outings in the past Noah, and I understand that Wittenberg is not exactly Notre Dame, but we do have one of the best D3 competitive football programs in the country and we are incredibly interested in an opportunity to have you come and play for us.

"Yes, of course!" Noah doesn't hesitate; he hasn't so much as had the time to process what this man has said to him before he is agreeing. He is willing to pack his bags and walk there right now if that is what it would take for him to have the opportunity to play football again.

His heart is racing inside of his chest. He isn't going to grow up only to become a nobody after all. He isn't going to wind up a Lima Loser going absolutely nowhere with his life. Instead, he is going to be _something_, _somebody_…

"First things first, we would really like a chance to meet with you and provide you with some more information that will be a lot easier to give to you in person rather than over the phone. How does next weekend sound?"

He is halfway to sealing the deal right here before the words are sucked straight out from his throat with a high pitched gasp of air – a reminder that Rachel's doctor has already informed him that with Rachel's unpredictable condition, he will need to remain in Lima at all times alongside the understanding that this kidney donation may have to happen at any point within the next week or two with no forward warning to be heard of.

"Well here's the thing… I'm kind of getting ready to donate a kidney to my sister and now, we don't have an exact date yet, but it is going to have to happen soon and I need to stay here in Lima just in case I get the go ahead." He isn't sure how to word his unusual predicament, but the way that this man sighs heavily across the phone informs Noah that maybe he simply shouldn't have mentioned anything at all.

"That's a very courageous decision that you're making Noah." He speaks these words but doesn't quite wear the tone to support them.

"Uh… thanks."

"But listen, I have to let you know that a doctor will not be able to clear a sports physical for you to play a contact sport so soon after such a major surgery." Like a pin against a balloon, Noah pops so suddenly that he actually feels a pain in his gut where he has been deflated.

"The recovery time isn't long!" Noah's voice rises dramatically, desperate for a means to show this man that this decision is in no way as extreme as it sounds, attempting to play off the loss of his kidney to the extent of the loss of an appendix. "The doctors say that I should be completely back to normal within a month or two which is plenty of time before training camp starts."

"Son…" Noah pauses, taking a deep, reproachful breath as he attempts to piece together the words that his attempt towards tact did not allow Noah to understand. "What I mean to say is that you will not be eligible to play college football with only one kidney."

"Oh…" Noah projects his understanding of the stipulations, his face immediately falling alongside the realization that this is going to come down to the idea that he is going to have to choose between him playing football for a couple of years and his sister dying.

He hates himself for admitting it, but it is a decision that is more difficult than he would have preferred.

"Listen, mull it over, thank about it and talk it over with your family…" He says this as if it is an actual option. The only thing that Noah can think about is the anger that Shelby would project onto him should he tell her that he was choosing football over Rachel, the disappointment inside of his sister's dying eyes towards his decision to attend her funeral rather than save her life. "Give me a call back in a week or two when you've let the information settle a little bit."

"Okay…" Noah breathes with as much control as he can manage in an attempt to sound like this is a choice that he is actually in the power of making. He is not ready to throw this opportunity away, not yet. "Thank you, Mr. Martin."

"Who was that?"

Noah jumps at the sound of his mother's voice, bobbling the portable phone inside of his hands for a couple of brief seconds before regaining control, placing it back down onto its receiver as casually as humanly possible.

"Um… it was nobody… just a telemarketer." Noah lies because this is the only option that he has. He needs just a little bit of time to think things over before he can start making announcements.

"This early?" Shelby's eyebrows rise in a manner that has Noah's heart tensing only briefly before she simply shrugs it off leaving him to relax once more. "Oh well, come on, let's head over to the hospital, your sister should be getting started soon."

"Yeah," Noah offers a soft nod, rubbing his eyes quickly against the back of his hand. He is beginning to feel it again; that familiar pounding headache the painful throbbing behind his eyes that not even the best help can aid him in.

How the hell is he supposed to make this choice while still being able to live with himself? Either outcome, Noah knows he loses.

"I'll be right there."

* * *

><p>He has been itching to get Shelby outside of Rachel's hospital room all morning in the understanding that Rachel is the only person on the face of this planet that he trusted enough to be honest about the phone call that he had received earlier this morning.<p>

Ultimately, Rachel becomes the one to help convince Shelby to go downstairs to eat, that link shared between Rachel and Noah allowing for his sister to understand that there is something deep inside of his mind that he needed to get out, something that he could not say for one reason or another, with their mother present.

They work together in their bid for solitude. In the end, Noah being forced to get damn near physical, pushing Shelby out of the door at Rachel's bidding alongside the mutual agreement when Rachel is stuck to this bed, Noah becomes her eyes, her ears and even in some cases, her battering ram for when they both know that it's time for Shelby to break free from these four enclosed walls.

But they have been silent for nearly thirty minutes; Rachel staring at Noah as Noah stares at the wall, waiting for something to happen.

"So are you gonna say something or are we just gonna sit here all day?" She taps her fingers against the guardrails of her bed, watching as her brother responds only by turning his head towards her but remaining otherwise silent; an improvement but still, only just that. "Okay Noah, come on you're starting to scare me now. What's going on?"

"I got a phone call this morning…" Noah finally tells her, deciding to move slowly in the progress of conversation; and by slowly, Noah means a genuine snail's pace.

"A phone call?" Rachel raises her eyebrows interested.

"From Wittenberg College," Rachel's reaction is genuinely similar to how Noah's had been when Paul Martin had introduced himself to him mere hours ago. "It's in Springfield, about two hours south of here…"

"I know where it is…" Rachel cuts him off, understanding full well his attempts towards stalling. "What did they want with you?"

"To play football…" Noah eases into his main point slowly, "On a full scholarship."

"Oh my God that's amazing!" Rachel's reaction is immediate and extreme. Her eyes widen with jubilation, her face flooding with just a little bit more color than anything that Noah is used to seeing inside of her cheeks.

Her eyes follow Noah's reaction, the frown deepening inside of his face so that her own expression falls within seconds.

"It… it is amazing isn't it?" His face is solemn; he doesn't make a move and this is answer enough for Rachel. "Okay Noah, what's the catch?"

"They aren't exactly willing to sign a player that is missing a vital organ. Say, a kidney for example." Recognition seeps inside of Rachel's features, the understanding that there is a fraction of their current predicament embedded inside of not only every single second of every single day, but every single decision that they make as well.

No matter what they cannot seem to escape it. Not even he can comprehend how it is that they got this way.

"What's going on in here?"

The siblings turn as an orchestrated whole just in time to watch Shelby freeze inside of the doorway, a plastic bag of takeout in hand, eyes darting animatedly between Rachel and Noah as her face falls with concern towards the look on her children's faces.

"Noah is getting recruited," When Noah chooses not to answer his mother; it becomes his sister who builds the confidence enough inside of her chest to speak. Her voice is powerful and radiant, reminiscent of her glee club days and way beyond anything that either of them were currently feeling. "He's got a full scholarship offer playing for Wittenberg College."

"What…" Shelby's expression drops so dramatically that it perfectly matches that previously adorned by either one of her children.

"You guys do know that this news is actually supposed to be met with – I don't know – a little bit of happiness." Rachel's shimmering smile in response to her brother's big news vanishes for the second time n a matter of mere minutes as she cocks her eyebrow towards the unexpected reaction that this supposedly jovial announcement was receiving.

"Right…" Shelby collects herself quickly, shaking her head against her initial disbelief although the damage has already been done, "Uh… sorry Noah, c-congratulations."

Shelby's eyes turn away with an avoidant disillusion. There is no surprise, no sense of shock, no awe written on her face in response to the news that her son's dreams were coming true. The only thing in fact that Noah can sense on his mother is fear towards the idea that she has been caught inside of some sort of elaborate scheme.

"You don't seem very surprised…" Noah calls Shelby out in a manner that leaves not even him entirely certain where it is that he is getting at, or just how far he is preparing to overstep his boundaries. The chaotic pit inside of his brain is swarming beyond the key of reason. The only thing that Noah can truly narrow in on is the recruiter's casually mentioning to him that his scholarship package must have gotten lost in the mail.

He should have known then that it seemed much too unusual to be true.

"What?" The means by which Shelby's eyes shoot upwards indicates to Noah that she heard him, she was just having a difficult time processing whether or not he actually was accusing her of what she thought that he was accusing her of.

For a second Noah feels badly, that is until he notices the fear deep inside of her eyes and he realizes that she knows just as much as he does that she has been caught in the act.

"The news about me getting recruited by Wittenberg," Noah repeats, "You don't seem very surprised."

"Noah, what are you talking about?" Shelby tries to defend herself by playing the fool but she stutters around her own lie in a manner that inadvertently confirms to Noah that she has done exactly what he thought she did – kept his scholarship a distinct secret from him for reasons that Noah cannot seem to fathom.

"No, don't lie to me anymore!" He snaps, shooting to his feet in a manner that leaves both Shelby and Rachel flinching, "Tell me the truth for once! You knew about this didn't you?"

He wants to cry but forces himself to believe that he is way too high above this. Blubbering about the unfairness of it all was the very last thing that was going to get Shelby to take him seriously.

"The packet was in the mail the day after you got hurt."

He is so expecting a fight that when Shelby comes straight out and tells him the truth for the first time in what Noah is now wondering is his entire lifetime, he chokes, swallowing the argument that he had previously been preparing for.

"What did you do with it?" Noah forces his voice to settle around his shot nerves, eyes trained to the ground as a fist of anger clenches inside of his stomach, refusing to unravel no matter how hard he tries.

"I threw it out."

"Why the hell would you do that to me?" His voice begins to rise in the injustice, the unfairness of it all as the idea practically forces him to his knees in his inability to understand any of it. "You know how badly I wanted this; to play football, to go to college!"

"I was just trying to protect you!" This time Shelby does not attempt to hide the tears inside of her eyes as she begs her son to understand the reasoning behind her doings.

"Stop," Noah waves his hand once to silence her before she can possibly do something that will make her even more upset than what he already is.

He forces himself to push forwards, ensuring that his eyes are strategically trained anywhere but on his mother as he brushes harshly past her and back into the hallway.

"Noah, come back here!"

"No! I don't want to hear it anymore, mom." He calls over his shoulder but does not once stop progressing forwards. "No more of your lies. I'm out of here."

* * *

><p>He drives for at least an hour before turning towards the one place that he can think of.<p>

When he turns into the parking lot towards the football field, he is glad enough to find it empty although not particularly surprised. A Saturday afternoon with football season well behind them, the air is long since lingering with a tense display of freezing winter winds, typical of northwestern Ohio at this time of year.

There isn't a soul in sight for miles.

Noah's feet crunch below the frozen turf as he makes his way slowly forward from the end zone to the fifty, the forty… He doesn't think that he has ever moved against this football field so slowly in his life.

"Looking for a little solitude?"

Noah's heart begins to thump as his head darts up in the understanding that he is not nearly as alone as what he had initially believed.

His eyes race across the field, jumpy in his unease before he finally spots a familiar face seated against the bleachers at the top bench in the corner furthest from him.

Noah can physically feel as the muscles relax beneath him as he attempts to play his antsy behavior off as casually as humanly possible, pulling his jacket just a little bit higher around his neck before shoving his hands deep inside of his jeans pocket, walking with a slow reproach towards Santana Lopez.

"Yeah… yeah, I guess." Noah takes his time answering her, responding only after he has finally managed to hover directly over her. Santana offers him a sad smile as he takes a seat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees before leaning forward and staring directly ahead towards the empty field in front of them.

After getting used to the time spent without her, Noah can only guess that he has lost track of just how long it has been since they'd spoken – just about a month now.

The handful of times that he has seen her around in the hallways, or in the handful of classes that they have together, even he has managed to notice that he is not the same Santana that he used to know, that he used to be in _love_ with.

Instead, she has grown distant and cold, the same Santana that she had grown into in the weeks following her less than graceful breakup with Noah, right after her relationship with Brittney had been revealed to the world, only worse.

"I guess that we can all use some alone time every once in a while…" Santana forces herself to laugh and Noah pretends that he does not notice when she tenses violently besides him, shifting away from the place that he had just made himself comfortable against the cold metal bleachers besides her.

"It's uh… it's been a little while since the two of us talked." Noah states the obvious, a rare occasion that he finds himself at a complete and utter loss for any other words leaving, him blabbering like an idiot.

"Yeah…" Santana drifts into an uncomfortable silence that has the both of them clawing to find something that might fill the empty space inside of the air. "I uh… I'm seeing Michael Glover now."

"Michael Glover?" This information is enough to spark Noah's attention as he turns his head and raises his eyebrows in response to the news. He doesn't trust Michael Glover, not in the slightest. Despite Noah's reliance on the kid to provide him with a steady stream of prescription medication, he was better known as the guy that lead a crowd of kids that Noah used to hang around back when he was still at LHSCE. He is a bad kid that much has never been a question. "What are you doing hanging around with that loser for?"

"One of the stipulations of me moving back in with parents is that I'm… I'm not allowed to date Brittney… or any girls for that matter." Santana laughs, but Noah can't for the life of him see what is so funny about any of this. "And don't call him a loser, Noah." She looks at him with a painfully hurt expression as if to tell him that she is already having enough trouble as it is, she doesn't need any more lack of support than what she already has.

"Why, that's what he is!" Noah decides on tough love because he already knows that Santana is not the type that responds well to being coddled. If nobody else was going to give her the truth, than he is going to have to be the one that does it for her.

"He's just… he's just a little bit over protective is all." Santana turns away so that she doesn't have to watch the manner by which Noah's eyes narrow inwards towards her. Concern drips from inside of his eyes as his thoughts race towards one distinct possibility, one that he does not have a choice but to ask her.

"Is he hitting you?"

"No!" Santana responds immediately with a renewed vigor behind her voice as if to emphasize that this is not the case. Still, Noah isn't entirely sure whether to believe her or not. "God no, Noah…"

"It sounds to me like this relationship is less stable than even our old one…" Noah's lips turn upwards in an attempt to joke, but Santana does not reciprocate. Instead, her eyes darken impossibly.

"What are you, Jerry Springer now?" Santana mutters.

"Why don't you just move back in with us like before?" Noah ignores her comment, extending the offer alongside the understanding that its terms are meant to be effective immediately.

"You wouldn't understand…" Santana shakes her head in her indication that as grateful as she is, this is an offer that she just cannot accept.

"What's there to understand?" He is completely confounded by her answers, her increasingly strange behavior and her ability to throw away everything that she is as a human being simply so that she could live with two people who couldn't stand her. "When you are with your parents you feel like shit. When you date Michael Glover you act all weird and withdrawn… I hate seeing you like this, Santana! I miss you, the glee club misses you and we're a group of people that actually enjoys having you around, so why don't you just come back to us?"

"Listen Noah, I appreciate it, really I do…" Words spill from her mouth but Noah cannot bring himself to believe a single thing that she is saying anymore and it kills him. "But as much as me and my parents don't see eye to eye with each other, I'm a senior now and I have to start thinking about my future. The only way that I'm gonna be able to go to college is if my parents pay for it. Besides, it's time that I start focusing more on what I have to do in order to get out of here and not on my social life anyway… I know that it's hard for you to believe, but I really need my parents right now Noah."

"So you need the people that forced you to quit the glee club, the people that barely so much as let you out of your own house?" Noah's eyes darken. It kills him to see Santana like this and in this frustration, this familiar yet uncomfortable rage is beginning to build beneath his skin in a manner that scares even him. "Is Michael Glover the reason that you don't come out anymore? That you don't even talk to anybody anymore?"

"That's part of it, yeah…" Santana doesn't lie to him because she already knows that he is not like the rest of them. He isn't an idiot and she knows this; he isn't like the others, the ones that only look at her in sympathy every time she walks past them but never actually does anything about it.

They have always been one in the same, Noah and Santana – doomed from the start to nothing beyond tragedy.

"So what's the other part?" Noah insists but he does so with a pang of regret that filters through his body the second that he sees the tears welling inside of Santana's eyes.

"I can't see Brittney, Noah, I just can't…" Santana sounds so defeated that it takes a chunk out of even Noah's own heart. "It hurts too much."

At a complete loss for a means by which to respond to Santana's stunning openness, Noah is almost grateful when the soft beep of her cell phone interferes between their rocky conversation.

He watches Santana carefully as she pulls her phone from the pocket, staring only briefly down at the screen. When her eyes darken, it is so dramatic that it practically casts a shadow across the entire football field.

"Is everything alright?" He feels obligated to ask as her fingers dance rapidly across her phone screen. His automatic assumption is that it is Michael Glover. The way that she stammers over his question is enough to confirm this as the truth.

"Yeah," She nods quickly, shooting so fast to her feet that Noah's head spins. "I have to go. It was nice talking to you again, Noah."

"Yeah…" He breathes, watching as Santana steps over his tall legs, moving as quickly as her small body will allow down the bleachers and back up the path towards the parking lot.

Noah shivers against his seat, feeling the cold breath of wind generated by the sudden loss of human contact in dramatic fashion. The only thing that he can bring himself to do is zip his jacket further around his neck. He is not ready to leave quiet yet.

He has found himself growing quite fond of his tendency to fall into complete and utter solitude.

* * *

><p>It takes him a long time to physically begin to turn blue.<p>

He had lost track of the time after the first hour, but as the sun began to sink, bringing nothing more than a further wave of cold he is practically uprooted and forcibly sent home.

His mother's car is inside of the driveway when he goes home. Noah doesn't even bother stopping his car. He isn't ready to see her right now, not yet.

He realizes just how sad it is that his second safest haven is Lima Memorial Hospital the moment he pulls into the parking garage. But if there was one person in the entirety of this world that he would be able to talk to right now, it was Rachel. She will understand. She will know what he needs even when he isn't entirely sure of that answer himself.

His sister, as it turns out, was always good like that.

"How are you doing?"

When Noah walks inside of her room, he is met with an immediate flurry of questions, concern dancing in circles inside of Rachel's eyes as if she has been waiting to ask him this question all day.

The reminder that it has been hours since Noah stormed out tells him that she probably was.

"You don't have to ask me that." Noah shakes his head against her question, indicating silently that he is the one that is supposed to be asking _her_ that… not the other way around.

"Mom left after you did…" Rachel delves into this information as if she actually thinks that he would want to hear it. "She was crying a lot… I guess that she just needed some time to herself is all."

"Are you trying to make me feel bad?" Noah grimaces in an attempt to come off as unfazed by Rachel's most recent bout of information, but knowing full well that it is a look that is simply not passing.

"I'm sorry…" She shakes her head, "I mean… about what mom did… And just for the record, I sort of was trying to make you feel bad. I did the same thing to her."

He pauses. If he had known that Rachel's means of helping him was to guilt trip him into an apology, than he never would have came… On second thought, he knows that he would have always turned to her… _always_.

"Don't blame her too much…" Rachel begs, watching as Noah rolls his eyes after an extended silence towards her terrible sense of tact. "She's worried… That's just what moms do."

Noah glares at her. He has absolutely no response. Noah after all, knows exactly what it is that moms do, he has spent his entire life watching his own mother worry over both him and Rachel without so much as a break to speak of… Hell, if he possessed the capacity to become a mother himself, he is certain that he would excel at the position; as hard as it is to admit it sometimes, he can't deny that he had learned from the best.

"So… what happens next?" Rachel finally breaks the silence.

"What do you mean?" Noah asks his sister carefully, not entirely certain that he wants to hear the answer to as his sister gets that familiar look inside of her eyes that tells him that she has something up her sleeve… something that he is not sure that he wants to hear.

"I mean are you going to Wittenberg?"

"No," Noah shakes his head, this decision no longer being one that he must think about. As much as it kills him to turn the offer down, it is starting to be more obvious to him that this is the only plausible option. "Not if they don't let me play if I do the donation."

"That's a tough decision to make, Noah." Rachel's voice drops to a whisper, her eyes turning downward as she begins to pick at the threads of her comforter, peeling it apart so quickly that Noah is sure that it will be reduced to nothing more than a giant spool of thread by the time this conversation is finished.

"Not really…" Noah shakes his head, trying to emphasize that there is no decision to be made, not in regards to the scope of the consequences.

"Yeah it is…" She sighs heavily, taking a handful of steadying, deep breaths to regain her confidence as her fingers begin to move more frantically against the bed spread, "Which is why I am going to make it a little bit easier for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Noah's spine stiffens, suddenly interested.

"It means that I'm not taking your kidney."

Noah shakes his head slightly as if to insist that he must not have heard her correctly, his jaw dropping to the floor as his eyes widen, eyebrows slowly arching upwards. He would like to think that with all of the time that he's had to get used to it, that moments like this wouldn't come as such a shock.

"I'm sorry, will you say that again?"

"I am not taking your kidney." She enunciates every word, speaking with slow, fluid syllables so as to ensure that her brother has fully caught their meaning. "I am not willing to be the one that destroys your chances of going to college, Noah, of losing your dreams of playing football or of being a normal kid… I know that mom may not see things this way, but you are not the only one here whose future is on the line."

"None of that matters, Rachel!" Noah's voice rises dramatically, his shoulders broadening as he forces himself to grow taller in an effort to indicate his dominance, trying to convince Rachel that she has absolutely no say in this matter when the truth is that she _is_ the say and they both know it, "Playing football, going to college none of that matters if you aren't there to help me through it."

"Stop," Rachel closes her eyes against her brother's painful words, shaking her head so aggressively that it makes even Noah dizzy. "Stop insisting on blowing all of your potential away for me. If you do this, than you are just going to regret it every day for the rest of your life and I'm sorry but I am not going to be a part of that."

"Stop being stupid, Rachel." He sinks with the understanding that Rachel is not going to be nearly as easily convinced as he would have liked. His head begins to pound, that familiar, dull roar. This was not supposed to be this way it is supposed to be _him_ that is having second thoughts, not Rachel.

In the end, he knows that he should have expected it all along.

Here was his little sister, understanding full well for all intents and purposes, the implications of her actions, facing them fearlessly while meanwhile it is taking everything inside of Noah's body not to sink to his knees where he stands.

Noah is left only wishing that he could have a fraction of Rachel's bravery.

"You stop being stupid!" Rachel shoots back, "I'm sick and tired of this family constantly putting their lives on hold because of me!"

"Me playing football is no way near as important as your life is! I don't understand how you can't see that." Head flushes inside of Noah's face. He is yelling so loudly back and forth with his sister that he finds himself half expecting somebody to come in and quiet them down before they disturb the entire hospital.

"Yes it is!" If there is one thing that he can say in confidence about his sister, it is that she is persistent. Her voice is teemed with frustration towards this idea that Noah cannot seem to process despite it seeming so obvious to her. "If you really don't give two shits about playing football in college than why is it the only thing that you have talked about since you were a kid? Why did you push so hard to get your grades up so that the scouts would start coming to look for you? Why were you wallowing inside of your bedroom for weeks after you lost Notre Dame? You care about it Noah, it's okay for you to admit that you care about it, nobody's gonna crucify you for it."

"Yeah they will…" His voice drops to a whisper, stammering alongside the understanding that every single word that is coming out of her mouth is a complete portrayal of the absolute truth.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Rachel concedes as easily as Noah is sure he will get her to all night, "That's why I figured that if I said that I don't want to do this transplant, than it will take the heat off of you a little bit…"

His sister is more conniving than people ever give her credit for. Always focused on him being the evil mastermind of the Corcoran family, Noah had always secretly known that he had left behind some of those bad genes to spare for her.

But even he is frozen in his torn desires, stunned perfectly silent in his inability to come up with a single means by which to express just what it is that he is feeling right now… He can't seem to find the words to let her know just how badly he needs her to stay with him.

So in the end, Noah chooses not to say anything at all on the subject.

"I have to go." He has never felt like more of a coward in any single point of his entire life than he does when he ultimately turns his back on his sister; his sister who was fighting tooth and nail for a means to defend him while meanwhile, he proves himself much too weak to ever properly defend himself.

"I'm not afraid of what's going to happen if things don't work out in my favor, Noah." He is forced to pause halfway to the door, Rachel knowing full well that these are just the words that he needs to be stopped dead in his tracks and, capitalizing on it heavily.

Noah forces himself not to hesitate for long. Instead, he stands firmly by his silence, retaining his ground quickly before turning to walk out once more.

"Do you believe in God, Noah?" He skids to a halt once more, closing his eyes for patience against Rachel's insistencies upon hitting him where she knows it will hurt.

"We're Jewish, Rachel." He hiccups against his projections of a religion that they only truly possessed the capacity to consider themselves on paper. The truth is Noah doesn't think that he's so much as stepped inside of a temple once, "Barely…"

"I think that I might."

"Don't…" He finally forces himself to meet her eyes, shaking his head sharply once. Rachel meets his stare pointedly, fixated. For several distinct minutes that feel like hours, neither move, neither speak, neither breathe…

It's only after he has decided that he has had enough that he finds himself comfortable leaving it all.

He wonders if he will stop telling people that he ever had a sister at all, if she goes; whether or not it will be too painful to even think about the idea that there was ever a time when she existed inside of something other than a series of old photographs.

He walks forwards. Rachel is long behind him but behind his eyes, all he can see is her. He cannot seem to get this terror out of his head, the fear that he cannot predict who he will possibly become without her.

* * *

><p>By the time he gets home he is blinded by the tears that are inside of his eyes. It is a miracle in itself that he'd even managed to drive back to his house without crashing.<p>

It would have been easier for him to drive with a blindfold on.

The second that Noah slams the front door behind him he hears his mother shouting towards him from the kitchen. She sounds worry, frantic even, her voice alone reminding him of the handful of missed calls that he had been ignoring from her throughout the day.

Considering the fact that he's been electronically ignoring her, he finds himself amazed with her belief that he would respond to her in person… Maybe it is an example of wishful thinking on her part but either way, he storms straight past her without so much as a word, exaggerating every one of his footsteps as makes his way up the stairs.

He can hear his mother racing to catch up with him just as he forces himself inside of the bathroom, clicking the lock for good measure. There is a distinct thud as Shelby practically runs into the piece of wood that is separating them, jittering the doorknob fruitlessly before pausing, settling on the idea that it will not open.

"Noah…" Shelby knocks but he greets her only with silence. "Noah please unlock this door. We need to talk."

His only response is an eye roll that is so exaggerated he is certain that Shelby could hear the motion from inside of his skull.

"Noah please…" Desperation is evident inside of her voice. Noah bites his tongue against telling her how unbecoming the tone appears on her. He is mad at his mother, but he is not that mad.

"Go away." He murmurs but the directions are clear and direct as he siphons through the medicine cabinet above the sink with hurried motions that leave the majority of its contents tumbling to the floor below.

"Noah please talk to me. Is everything okay in there?" There are tears inside of her words. The first time Noah ever saw his mother cry, he was six years old. At the time she was standing over the kitchen sink, staring blankly out the window trying to pretend that she wasn't.

She doesn't even bother trying to hide it anymore.

Noah forces himself not to care as his eyes lock on everything it is that he is looking for, his prize coming in the form of a small orange bottle that has fallen inside of the sink. His fingers wrap around it with a settling ease that strikes him instantly.

"Noah!"

"Yes!" He roars back his response so loudly that the walls shake. "I'm fine mom, Jesus now just leave me alone!"

His eyes tunnel inward, his attention focused. If Shelby is still talking to him, Noah has finally managed to tune it out.

His hands tremble slightly in his hurried nature, praying the cap off of his bottle with only slight trouble thanks to his shuddering appendages. He lifts the open edge up to his lips, tipping three pills out onto his tongue for good measure.

Swallowing heavily, his motions slow as he clutches onto either edge of the sink basin and stares downwards into the white porcelain. His lips are impossibly dry, he licks them in a failed attempt to draw in some moisture.

Slowly, he finds himself beginning to understand that there is not a synthetic pain killer in the world strong enough to take away this agony.

* * *

><p><strong>Baygirl123<strong>** – Thank you!**

**Clara Meliza**** – Yay! Thank you so much!**

**Just Me**** – Haha I am very impressed myself I know how tough that can be. Thank you so much! I think that it is much more likely that Shelby will crash before she willingly decides to get some rest. Quinn is starting to come to her own terms about things beyond the crap her parents had always filled in her head so she is going to start playing a major role in Rachel's recovery. I too am a sucker for Rachel angst (if you couldn't tell). Also to answer your question, everybody has two kidneys so that donating one of them isn't a problem, you can live with only one there just needs to be more precautions taken to make sure not to damage the last one you have left. Also, Rachel is a strong kid, she doesn't let her condition effect her life and her plans for her future. She tries to focus on her dreams to get her by, but there is a fear hidden deep inside that is going to start coming out as her condition gets more and more worrisome. Thanks again for all of your amazing words, I can't even begin to tell you how much they're appreciated!**

**Guest**** – Oh wow, thank you so much! That made perfect sense and I am honored! I'm glad you're enjoying the ride so far! Hmm, that's a good question. It's tough. Honestly I like each chapter a little bit more than the last. You learn something new from every one so it's always nice to **


	42. Noah Corcoran May 2001

**I feel like I'm starting to sound like a broken record these days but again, so sorry for the delay. My computer is at that end life stage where I consider it a good day if I don't throw it against the wall. On top of that I've got some big real world stuff coming my way that I'm excited about but it's also kicking my ass sideways with work so I appreciate your patience and as always, thank you so much for sticking it out with me!**

**Also, I got a bit carried away with writing the next chapter and kind of forgot that there was another chapter in between :) I just wanted to stick this one in first because I wanted to show the parallels between the past and the present and Noah's transition into the person he turned into if that makes any sense. **

**Anyways, the good news is that the next chapter is pretty much already written so hopefully there won't be too big a gap. Until next time. **

* * *

><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – May 2001

* * *

><p>It's Zero Day. That's what everybody keeps calling it anyway – <em>Zero Day<em>.

This does not make sense to Noah at all, especially considering that today is not day zero at all. Instead, it is day _one_ of Rachel's pre stem cell transplant preparation.

Day zero had in fact begun with him, although at the rate things have been moving these days he is not entirely surprised that he has been deemed insignificant to the cause when in fact, even the six year old knows that his contribution _is_ the cause.

It had been only yesterday that Noah himself was tied down to a hospital bed, mere floors above his sister, pushing through yet more traumatic needle draws and procedures, doctors continuing to remove pieces of _him_ for the sake of _her_.

This morning he is discharged, vocalizing just how badly he wants nothing more than to go home. His mother drags him immediately upstairs into radiography anyway.

There is no escape from this place. Noah might as well be imprisoned.

They're barely through the door of Rachel's suite when Shelby detaches herself from Noah's hand, rushing away from him so that she can hold onto her.

His four year old sister is already tied to the metal radiation bench, ensuring that the squirmy toddler will not move throughout a procedure where standing still is absolutely paramount. A machine hovers above her prone figure that looks more like a robot from one of Noah's cartoon shows than any piece of medical equipment that he has ever seen. Rachel is completely bare with the exception of a small pair of shorts that makes even her look large inside of them. Lead beads dot along her chest like polka dots, already prepared to guide the radiation inside of her body.

"Everything is going to be fine, Rachel." Shelby makes the promise to his sister as Noah shrinks against the corner wall out of fear of this foreign environment that he has been left to fend for himself inside – Noah pretends that his mother is speaking to him. "I'm going to be right outside of this window watching you the entire time, okay?"

"I can be brave, momma…" Rachel tries to assure her mother but nobody has ever had any doubts regarding this much.

"That is one strong little girl that you've got on your hands, Mrs. Corcoran." The radiographer tries to boost Rachel's morale with flattery - Noah can only cross his arms disdainfully, glaring as Rachel beams upwards towards the man; a wide smile devoid of the front teeth that she had lost to the decay of chemotherapy weeks ago.

Shelby smiles proudly, Noah looks down towards his feet. Nobody ever bothers to call him strong. They do not tell him that he is brave or noble. Instead, the only thing that they do tell him is that he is a good brother, that his decision to help his sister is selfless as if it was ever even a choice at all.

It always comes back to Rachel – _always_.

For all of the hype that had been made out of it, Noah finds the process to be relatively uninteresting.

Expecting laser beams to burst into and out of her body, explosions blasting away at offending cancer cells - or at the very least a shining ray of light, when there is none of this he is almost disappointed.

He should have known.

The only thing that is allowing Noah to understand that there is anything happening at all as he sits inside of the radiation lounge and watches his still sister through the thick window separating them are the small shrieks of delight emitted periodically by his mother and aunt as though they are watching some elaborate action movie and not what very well may be the single handedly most boring process alive.

"We're gonna have to do something really special for Rachel's fifth birthday…" Shelby has been turning this into habit lately – projecting upon an elaborate scheme that she had previously put off in the wake of Rachel's illness seemingly out of nowhere. At first, Noah interpreted this as a friendly reminder that there is finally an end in sight to all of this madness, despite previous doubts. At this point it is just starting to frustrate him, "Something big."

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Shelby," Krista is the voice of reason behind Shelby's premature excitement, reminding her not to get herself too worked up in her finally allowing herself to believe that the birthday that Rachel had celebrated mere days before her diagnosis would not be her last. In the absence of Hiram, Krista has since taken over in the roll of reminding Shelby that she had responsibilities apart from Rachel – herself, and another child. "Rachel's birthday isn't for months. Besides, we've got another birthday to worry ourselves over first, don't we champ."

She ruffles the top of Noah's head, skewing his slightly over grown hair, longer than Noah ever would have preferred due to the fact that Shelby hasn't seemed to find the time to fit a haircut into their busy schedule. Noah forces a grin – at least somebody remembered that his seventh birthday was less than two weeks away.

"I know…" Shelby nods but she does not elaborate, "I guess I'm just excited is all… Things are finally starting to look up again."

When Rachel does leave radiation she is shuffled immediately into chemotherapy. The process is designed to wear her down. It is designed to absolutely _break_ her. Rachel – based on Noah's understanding – will be spending the next month having her system cleaned out, eliminated, destroyed just so that they can rebuild it all over again.

Even after Rachel receives a healthy dose of Noah's stem cells, it can take months maybe even years…

And if Rachel is stuck in here for the next year than so is he.

The doctors all say that Rachel will most likely not begin to experience the devastating side effects of the intensive chemotherapy for a couple of days, but it takes less than an hour until Rachel is reduced into nothing more than a writhing ball in the center of her bed.

Noah keeps his distance. Even with his experience he has never been particularly good with vomit.

Noah's gag reflex activates against the back of his throat. He dry heaves briefly as he watches the muscles of Rachel's midsection cramp and seize violently, his body mimicking her own, stopping just short of splattering the insides of his own stomach against his feet.

Between him and Rachel, his mother and aunt are running marathons; an assembly line that has Krista discarding full emesis basins as Shelby replaces them with fresh ones. Shelby is moving at the speed of lightning, still, her quick movements prove to not be quick enough. Within seconds, Rachel has a puddle of regurgitated material streaming down her front.

The stench hits Noah first. He tastes bile against his tongue but forces it quickly back down.

He has spent the last several weeks struggling to prove his competence to his mother. A further set back is the absolute last thing that he needs right now.

Instead, Noah settles on burying himself inside of his chair, digging deep inside of a cocoon of spare linens, wishing not for the first time to physically disappear from everybody – including Rachel.

When she isn't throwing up she is crying. It doesn't take very long for her lingering pain and her unattended to exhaustion to transfer upon the outside world in an explosion of anger.

Rachel is short circuited and snippy. She snaps at anybody that tries to help her, so unlike Rachel – even at her worst – that it actually begins to scare Noah. For the first time that he can remember, Rachel cannot make things appear to be better while everything else is going to hell. He wants to hide from the one person that he's always wanted to be open to, even as he runs away from everybody else.

Noah shifts inside of his seat, legs swinging back and forth so dramatically that his heels press against something very solid beneath the chair on every back swing.

It's the soft crunching of plastic that ignites his curiosity, eyes turning downwards in order to investigate, his face brightening towards the image of Rachel's stuffed rabbit Barbra, left forgotten sealed tightly inside of a Ziploc designed to protect Rachel from the germs of the outside world as they simultaneously attempt to offer the allusion of home comfort.

Barbra is a chronic accomplice for when Noah is looking for an opportunity to save the day.

"Hey Rachel, look what I found…" Noah leaps forwards with a rejuvenated energy - multi tasking as he grasps a fistful of the plastic sealed stuffed animal and rushes towards Rachel at the same time.

Noah stands besides the head of Rachel's bed, dangling the plastic wrapped animal before his sister, beaming in the hopes that Rachel will reciprocate his actions.

When Rachel's eyes narrow angrily towards her brother, Noah is so taken aback that it takes him an extra moment to recognize the dramatic emotional display before him.

She looks uninterested, upset towards her brother's actions – a theory that is only confirmed when Rachel reaches forwards and slaps the stuffed animal violently out of Noah's hands with all of the energy that the exhausted girl can muster.

"No!" The room silences instantly as Noah jumps in the terror of his surprise, mouth dropping open with disbelief towards his normally docile younger sister, "I don't want Barbra, I don't want you, I don't want anybody! I just want to be left alone!"

"Rachel Barbra!" Shelby's response is instinctual – a sharp scolding directed towards Rachel's unusually aggressive behavior that has left even her older brother recoiling.

Violence of any sort of nature is an act strictly forbidden inside of their mother's eyes. Experience reminds Noah that she does not tolerate it lightly, except apparently, when shrouded by circumstances such as this… Shelby's interference stops at her lazily thrown out words, reducing the room into an otherwise silence. People - even their mother, _especially_ their mother had a tendency of cutting Rachel a little bit of extra slack these days.

Noah's best guess is that being forced to spend your days as sick as Rachel is viewed punishment enough in Shelby's eyes.

"Hey Noah, I think that Rachel may be a little bit tired buddy. How about we give her some time to take a nap, huh?" Krista swoops in expertly; Shelby tending to the volatile Rachel as his aunt grasps him by the shoulders and steers him away from his sister as his eyes quickly begin to fill with tears. "Hey, maybe we can go and get a pizza for dinner and then maybe sleep over at grandma and grandpa's if your mom says it's alright…"

"Yeah Noah, that sounds nice, doesn't it?" Her voice is filled with a faux cheerfulness that Noah recognizes immediately as a mere decoy. She is distracted, eons away despite her closeness in proximity. Noah would have huffed in his disagreement towards her statement had he actually believed she would even hear him.

It doesn't sound nice, not in the slightest. What would sound nice would be for Shelby to tell him that tonight, they will all go home together – a family walking out of this hospital together, his father waiting outside in the car to drive them.

He is not stupid enough to get his hopes up.

"Thank you so much for taking him tonight, Krista." Shelby turns away once more, eternally distracted in the involuntary reminder of just how much a parent possesses the capacity to destroy their children – overworked mothers and absent fathers. "I'm gonna stay here with Rachel tonight and see if I can get her settled down some."

Noah turns away. When Rachel comes home from the hospital, she gets parties – presents, family dinners, an extra snack before bed even when Shelby knows that she will never eat it… When _he_ comes home from the hospital, the only thing that he gets is a pity pizza and the opportunity to be shuffled around everywhere except for the one place that he really wants to go – back to his own home.

"Noah, come here honey…"

Shelby beckons her son forward. The second that her attention focuses upon him, the boy is so convinced that it is an allusion that his feet become frozen to the ground.

Ultimately, it has to become Shelby that has to move towards him, the jolt of motion kicking Noah into action. Like a jump start, he waits for her, standing obediently at attention as if Shelby will reward him for good behavior – pay him extra attention, magically convince him that everything is going to be okay…

The reminder that every aspect of Noah's perfect vision is impossible has him sinking with defeat once more. For right now, he can only bask in the fact that for the first time in months he does not feel so invisible to the one person that he ever really wanted to notice him.

"Honey, I'm sorry…" Shelby shakes her head, her eyes impossibly sad as Noah grows confused about what it is that his mother is referencing – whether she is apologizing for Rachel in regards to her immediate behavior or for their situation as a collective whole. She squats down before him, bending at the knees until she is at eye level with her son, placing her hands gently against either one of his shoulders as Noah finds himself leaning further into her touch with a natural ease of comfort. "I know how hard this is for you."

"I know." Noah lies to her despite himself. He is in fact certain that she has absolutely no idea how hard this is for him – that nobody in the entirety of this world does… Noah has to bite his tongue against informing Shelby of his beliefs in this inopportune moment, having since become an expert at locking his feelings deep inside of his chest.

"Hey look at me, Noah." Shelby's long fingers brush against the underside of Noah's chin, gently forcing his eyes upwards in order to meet her own – barely functioning exhaustion joining together to meet with insignificant rejection. "You're such a good big brother Noah, did you know that? You are a very brave boy and I am so, so proud of you."

"Thank you." Noah mutters a robotic response through his teeth as his eyes turn downwards once more. _She is proud of him_… This is the one thing that Noah has been waiting for Shelby to say to him for what seems like his entire life but suddenly, it isn't nearly enough.

"Okay buddy, I will see you first thing tomorrow morning okay? Bright and early…" Shelby nods her head through her assurances but the manner in which her voice falters allows Noah to understand her recognition of disinterest inside of her son's eyes. Shelby makes an informed decision not to acknowledge it, pushing emotions to the side in a manner that only their family can do best. "I love you the most, you remember that…"

"More than anyone?" Noah perks slightly towards the words that he did not hear nearly often enough anymore.

"More than anyone," Shelby confirms through a firm nod of her head, her face softening as her lips turn upwards in a smile that is so inviting that Noah can't help but to sink himself straight inside of her arms, falling against the familiar imprint of his body against her chest, leaning into her so heavily that his entire body rises and falls in time with her even breaths.

"Even more than Rachel?" The comfort lasts him mere seconds, Noah easily falling inside of the trap that allows him to pretend that this can make up for everything that he has been missing out on in these last couple of months before the worry sparks inside of his head, leaving him pulling away from his mother once more, but not before feeling her muscles tense beneath his body in response to his question.

Suddenly, Noah is fearful for the answer of a question that he wishes he never even asked in the first place.

"Noah, you know that I love both you and your sister the same…" Shelby breathes with a clear frustration, disappointed towards what she perceives as a personal failure – her son not grasp an idea that seems so obvious to her.

Shelby can only wish that with time, Noah will come to understand this. But time is a concept that is no longer on their side. Shelby's newfound struggles transitioning into the world of single parenthood, burdening her with the responsibilities of being at the devices of a rebelling son and sick daughter seem to have left Noah lost in a manner that he couldn't possibly understand – that none of them could.

"So then it's not the most…" Noah's eyes narrow as he interprets the situation aloud. There is an impossible anger inside of his eyes - an anger that Shelby has never before seen in her six year old, molding prominently in his weeks of perceived neglect – one absentee mother and one mother too busy trying to keep what is left of her family together to view anybody as an individual.

"Noah…" Shelby sighs heavily in acknowledgment of her lack of a productive response. Her eyes darken heavily as she silently begs her son to possess the capacity to understand what not even she herself could on most days. "You two are the most important things in my entire life. You know that, right?"

"Right…" Noah's voice seeps with a sarcasm that has him transforming from a child into an angry teenager before Shelby's very eyes, Noah's face glistening with a sense of unfairness that Shelby didn't think she would have to deal with until he was in high school.

Her son has always been hot headed and strong minded. He is dominant in his willingness to express himself in any circumstances. On most days, it felt as though it were mere weeks ago that Shelby was worrying herself over what Noah might be like as a teenager. At the time, Shelby had been certain that she would not be prepared for that moment, even in the assumed years until the day did come – years down the line.

She knows that she certainly is not prepared for it now.

The small boy pushes himself away from Shelby near tears. When he stomps back towards the door, he does so with a temper that matches his father's so identically that for a moment, Noah transforms before her very eyes from her six year old son to her full grown husband.

"Noah."

Shelby's voice chokes desperately as she calls her son back to her. He pauses hesitantly, turning just inside of the doorway so that when his eyes meet up with her own, Shelby becomes very aware of the idea that she can no longer identify that strong, caring little boy that she had grown to love more than life itself inside of her son.

She swallows heavily. Shelby has never been so nervous to talk to her own child before in her life. But she is out of things to say, out of things to do in the reminder that Noah is well beyond the point of being comforted into believing her lies. He is much older than what his age would otherwise suggest.

So Shelby does the one thing that she can think of.

"I'm so sorry."

She doesn't expect him to answer her but still, Noah's silence as he turns his back and walks out of the door hurts all the same.

* * *

><p>Rachel lasts a grand total of four days before her white blood cell counts begin to fall so dramatically that the doctors cannot seem to move her into isolation quickly enough.<p>

Any foreign body in this world can kill her so they scheme to keep her distance from it in order to protect her from all of the things that they cannot always see.

Shelby is the only one allowed inside of the room with her twenty four seven. Noah, as well as a select few members of their extended family – his aunt and grandparents – are allotted a one hour daily slot to visit.

He has never really been one to be afraid of Lima Memorial before but today, as his aunt guides him up the elevator towards Rachel's unit, he clutches onto her hand with a vice grip, walking with a slow, steady gait as he drags his feet heavily behind him, rapidly turning a normally five minute journey into a twenty minute one.

He hasn't seen his sister since she yelled at him four days ago, everybody getting their say in their agreement that some time away from the hospital was exactly what Noah needed – except for him, that is. Now, Noah has come to the understanding that the only thing that being away for so long has done to him is leave him with a foreign, distinctly uncomfortable feeling.

He felt better off inside of this hospital than he did in his own home, but then again, not even he can really tell the difference between the two anymore.

"Noah…" He can hear his sister calling out to him through the thick glass doors that separate her from the world outside. Her voice alone is enough to hasten his movements. Noah dresses quickly – a paper thin, yellow isolation gown topped with a pair of gloves twice the size of his own hands; a strict requirement before he is allowed to enter inside of the secure sliding doors that pave the way inside of Rachel's strictly enclosed quarters.

"Hi Noah…" Rachel extends her greeting; a shyness commonplace when she is with strangers, but never with her own brother… She speaks to him from behind a large, light blue surgical mask that covers the majority of her small, coin shaped face so that Noah cannot read her expression, cannot tell whether or not she is still mad at him from their blunder from the other day.

At least she is not yelling at him this time. This, in comparison, is a start.

"Hi Rachel…" Noah mutters softly, stuffing his hands inside of the pockets of his jeans as he looks down towards his shoes, scuffing them gently against the tile.

He is embarrassed that he is afraid of his little sister, embarrassed that he knows that he cannot handle her lashing out at him again. He knows that should anybody catch wind of these fears – especially somebody like David Karofsky at school – he will never hear the end of it; so he reasons with the medium of keeping his mouth shut and saying only what he has to before falling into silence once more.

"Hi honey…" Shelby intercepts Noah's ploy to fade back into the background, finally heard for the first time that he would rather be rejected. She latches onto him with a vice grip of desperation that tells Noah that she has not forgotten their conversation from the other day any more than he had. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay…" Noah fidgets vaguely, despite an understanding that his mother is interested in specifics that he is not willing to give her – Noah only works on _his_ terms, not hers.

"Noah!" Rachel wails for his attention once more. Her voice rises in an effort to indicate that her casual _hello_ from earlier before was meant to capture his attention, not to have him casually bypass her.

"What is it, Rach?" His eyes turn from Shelby's, softening with the hopes that this will be the Rachel that he knows so well speaking to him, not the violent, yelling Rachel that he had met – much to his distaste – earlier in the week.

Noah prepares for the worst because he is not so sure that he can handle a surprise attack for a second time.

"I'm sorry…" She finally mutters, her eyes turning downward like a puppy that is being scolded, focusing inside of her own lap as Noah's tense muscles soften with the understanding of a truce.

"For what?" Noah's brows furrow together as he takes a handful of tentative steps forward, swallowing his fears against his responsibilities as a big brother in the understanding that despite temporary lapses, Rachel would always be the same sister that he always knew.

It was the rest of them that were changing.

"For yelling at you the other day…" It amazes Noah, the ease by which Rachel possesses the capacity to apologize while meanwhile, the rest of their family were skirting around each other barely able to so much as look at each other for reasons of pure pride; a petty excuse in comparison to those that Rachel fostered, yet never seemed to use. "I was just angry because I didn't feel very good. But I wasn't angry at you, I promise! I'm sorry that I made you feel sad."

"You don't have to say that you're sorry." Noah shakes his head through a sudden boost of confidence, pushing forwards the rest of the short distance to Rachel's bedside, leaning as far in as he is comfortable with against the bedrails.

"Really?" The majority of her face remains hidden from him, but the means by which her eyes brighten allows him to know that she is smiling.

"Really," Noah promises through a gentle smirk, shrugging his shoulders casually as though to convince Rachel that her outburst the other day had not affected him nearly as much as it actually did. "You know, sometimes I guess that I get a little bit angry too…"

"You do?" Rachel's stance broadens, intrigued by her brother's confession as her eyes grow wide, desperate for an explanation, as if begging Noah to prove to her that she is not the only person on the face of this planet that feels the way that she does.

"Well, yeah…" Noah shrugs casually, choosing not to go into the detail of his anger, locked so deep inside of his stomach on most days that he feels as though it might boil over and make him explode.

"But you don't yell at people." Rachel emphasizes her perceived flaws with a false notion that she thinks is obvious.

"I do sometimes." Noah admits quietly, disappointment stemming inside of his voice towards a confession that he is not proud to announce to his little sister who trusts him and looks up to him with everything inside of her heart and soul…

"Well you don't yell at me." Rachel shrugs casually as if this is the only deciding factor presented inside of her argument that she needs. Her words leave Noah with a burst of bravery, allowing him to look upwards and meet his sister's eyes once more through a soft smile… Mostly, he can only be glad that Rachel has not been present enough in these past couple of months to actively witness his transition from a gentle, caring little boy to an impossibly angry young man lashing out at school, at home, _everywhere_…. unless of course, he was around her.

The truth is that she is the only person capable of making Noah feel like his normal self again.

"I would never yell at you!" Noah defends his argument with a surge of energy, thrusting himself forwards and closer towards her as if begging Rachel to believe him when the soft smile that she offers in return allows him to understand that she had never even doubted him, not for a second.

"Hey Momma…" Rachel turns away from Noah in a manner that the boy had not entirely been expecting… For a second he falters under the belief that he is being ignored – again, even after all of this.

Noah deflates like a balloon.

"Yeah Rach…" Shelby rushes forwards, experienced conditioning convincing her that Rachel will be informing her that she needs to be sick, or else is experiencing some other type of emergency that ranks so highly above any of Noah's superficial problems.

"Am I allowed to give Noah a hug?"

He slackens at her request to be granted permission, his chest tightening with guilt towards his recent tendency to jump to such hasty conclusions. But he puts on his brave face, chest broadening instinctively, puffing with pride towards the idea that he and he alone possesses the capacity to always make Rachel feel better.

"Sure you can honey," Shelby nods gently after a brief moment of trepidation, her eyes falling sympathetically as if to quietly apologize that under her strict isolation guidelines, Rachel has to ask permission for something as commonplace as the ability to hug her brother, "A really, really fast hug though, okay?"

The young girl nods her head in understanding as she maneuvers herself onto her knees, supporting her frail body on legs thin as match sticks as she leans across the guardrails and allows herself to fall inside of her brother's chest. Noah responds with ease to the feeling of her tiny body falling against his own, reciprocating by wrapping his arms firmly, yet with a remarkable gentleness around her, symbolizing their coveted sense of protection that he was not willing to give up any time soon.

The fabric of Noah's isolation suit against Rachel's thin hospital gown crinkles uncomfortably between their bodies. They are as close as they can possibly get without Noah placing too much of a risk on Rachel's fragile state of health, and although it doesn't seem like nearly enough, his sister inside of his arms is reminder enough of how distinct a purpose he was born for – to save his sister's life.

Suddenly, in retrospect, everything that he'd had to endure in order to get to this point did not seem nearly as bad as it had a moment ago.

"Alright Noah, time to go buddy," His aunt beckons him away as soon he detaches himself from his sister, what feels to Noah to be mere seconds since they've arrived… Noah can't help but to feel as though it had taken him a longer time to gear up in the space suit that he had to wear just to be granted permission to enter than it did for him to actually pay his visit.

"But we just got here!" Noah turns towards her through a loud protest exemplified by a lengthy groan as Rachel releases her own throaty voice of displeasure towards the idea of her brother's departure.

"Hey, do you remember what I told you before? We're only just stopping in to say hi before you have to go to school." Krista repeats her initial conditions towards their visit, conditions that Noah now knows he had been a fool to agree to.

"Yeah well… I take it back!" He crosses his arms firmly across his chest, eyes narrowing as his aunt sets her jaw in a manner that has her resembling her sister so perfectly that Noah is practically forced to retreat in his argument.

"Come on, Noah," His mother intervenes out of necessity, beckoning the boy to move quickly and without protest in an indication that his attempts to buy himself some extra time have failed. "You've missed enough school lately as it is. We gotta get your but over there pronto."

"Ugh, fine…" Noah groans dramatically, rolling his eyes for extra effect as he walks towards his aunt knowing full well that everything that her and his mother is saying is true, as much as he may not want to admit it… He _has_ been missing a lot of school lately. Not that he is complaining or anything, but being half of the equation to Rachel's stem cell transplant on top of the fact that he is a part of the family with the dying child makes it so that people have suddenly developed a tendency to cut him a little bit of additional slack wherever he went.

"It's okay Noah," Rachel expresses her eternal understanding from somewhere behind him, forcing Noah to pause as he turns to be greeted with the image of his sister smiling supportively towards him. "I'll still be here after school…"

He nods through a tentative motion that doesn't resonate entirely between them. Although still upset that he has used barely even fifteen minutes of his allotted daily hour visiting Rachel, the two siblings continue to lean on each other with the hope that there will at least always be tomorrow.

"I pinky promise that I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning, Rachel," Noah presents his most sincere of promises, projecting his desire to seal the agreement by rushing back towards his sister, his tiny hand outstretched, pinky jutting forwards towards her.

Noah extends his tiny, gloved little finger, Rachel giggling amusedly as she wraps hers about his own so that the two connect, the oversized latex gloves knotting them together so that in Noah's mind, the promise is set further into stone.

"You better," Rachel grins, trying desperately to hide her amusement as she attempts to detangle herself from the rubber barricade that connects the two.

"Remember, only cheats go back on their pinky promises."

* * *

><p>He wakes up the next morning with a distinct feeling as if somebody had snuck inside of his room over night and lit him on fire.<p>

The burning radiates downward and into his very bones, pressing out from his head against his toes. A coughing spurt forces him to sit up, heaving his body into the fetal position, curling forward until his lungs begin to burn. He is shaking so hard that he practically falls out of his bed.

"Hey Noah…" His aunt is calling to him through a knock at the door, his coughing fit signaling to her attention… Krista has been saying in Shelby's bedroom these last couple of days as his mother remained firmly planted at Rachel's bedside under the lock and key of reverse isolation. It was his family's method of keeping Noah happy and comfortable inside of his own home.

So much good that did.

"Noah, are you okay?" Her tone drops with a dramatic gentleness as her eyes adjust inside of the darkened bedroom to the image of her nephew curled in a ball against his bed.

"I don't feel good, Aunt Krista…" Noah chokes on his own response. Tears flood the insides of his eyes as the muscles lining his stomach begin to convulse violently.

"Oh Noah, I'm sorry buddy." She walks slowly towards him, seating herself down against the edge of his bed, pacing a gentle hand against his knee and squeezing. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know…" Noah grunts with a vague unknowing. He is feeling much too sick to so much as speak; too sick to focus on what _exactly_ it is that is going on, "Everything hurts."

"Okay… okay," Krista breathes, rushing in circles as she attempts to figure out her next step. Noah watches through beady eyes, understanding that his overwhelmed aunt is doing the best that she can with her miniscule experience caring for a sick child apart from her being an accomplice on those days that Shelby needs a little bit more help with Rachel, when her own two hands don't seem to be anywhere near enough. "Okay Noah, I'm going to call your mom real quick, okay?"

He nods, a brief bob of the head that he can barely manage, his head feeling as though it weighs a thousand pounds on top of his neck, pressing against his spine with every turn… But it is the least that he can do to prove just how much he agrees with Krista's best plan.

If Noah didn't miss his mother before this, he definitely missed her now.

"Alright hon, I'll be right back, okay?" She squeezes his knee gently before turning from the room, her pace increasing gradually until she is practically sprinting.

For a moment, Noah allows his thoughts to run so far from himself that he fears she will not return that he will be left to his own devices unable to move, unable to breathe… Noah has never felt this way before. Suddenly he is left wondering whether this is how Rachel feels all the time; so weak, so frustratingly vulnerable that he can't find a means by which to figure out anything to do for himself.

But then there is the brief sound of fidgeting originating from the kitchen. Noah can hear Krista rummaging around, rushing in a search – made frantic in her worry – for the house phone.

"Shelby?" He can hear her voice echoing from inside of the kitchen, "Listen… It's Noah." Noah registers the extended pause. He can practically hear his mother asking Krista what's wrong through the phone all the way from the other room. "He's sick."

"_Sick?"_

This time, there is no mistaking his mother's voice as it echoes through the receiver, such a seemingly simple word bringing her such panic and alarm. Of course, with their family's track record, Noah cannot blame her too much.

For a brief moment, the reminder has Noah's heart seizing with fear. Noah _is_ sick, but Rachel is as well – a type of illness inscribed deep down inside of her very genes. Noah has spent the past weeks being told time and time again that the entire reason that he is a candidate to donate his stem cells to be transplanted into Rachel's body at all is in fact because he and Rachel shared practically identical genes…

Noah has seen everything that Rachel's illness has done to her, to their family… In a sweeping example of Noah's tendency towards jumping to automatic conclusions, he finds himself automatically assuming the worst.

It doesn't help that it is obvious that his mother is doing exactly the same.

Noah tries desperately to remember how this all began with Rachel, tries to make a mental checklist of all of those initial signs and symptoms that had prompted Shelby to seek medical attention to begin with, but that is a time that seems so long ago now. He can barely remember what he'd eaten for dinner last night, let alone the blur of events that the last several months have brought.

He can just barely picture a vague image from the morning that Shelby had brought the three of them into that doctor's office on the day that Rachel was diagnosed. It was a freezing day in late December. Noah had rolled out of bed much later than usual, lulled into a heavy sleep by a hearty Hanukkah dinner the night before, although when he _did_ finally wake up, he was still hungry.

Shelby was still asleep, the kind of sleep that Noah could hear her snoring from all the way down the hall. For the first time since he can remember, Noah had chosen not to wake her up in order to feed him… His mother used to always proclaim to Hiram that she never got enough sleep around here when she thought that her kids were out of earshot, but Noah knew the truth so that morning, in order to make things easier on Shelby, he had taken it upon himself to make his own breakfast.

His father was already gone, long at work. Even Rachel had still been asleep in an action so unlike the young diva that Noah can remember pausing that morning in his wonderment towards where she was… If only he'd known then.

Rachel was almost _always_ the one to wake their entire family, singing her heart out at the crack of dawn inside of their playroom den where Shelby and Hiram had set up a miniature microphone set for her fourth birthday only days before.

And as much as it had annoyed Noah at the time, he hasn't heard Rachel sing like she used to in months. The alternative of quiet was slowly killing him.

Rachel slept a lot – Noah remembers – in those first couple of days. Even before she'd started chemotherapy, which doctor's initially had to postpone on account of an infection at the site of her catheter port entrance that left her too sick for a drug designated to squash her immune system.

There is a vivid image inside of his head of Rachel, the day after she was admitted into the hospital, Shelby bouncing her tiny body against her lap as she slept on her mother's shoulder, snoring like Rachel only did when she was not feeling well.

She'd had that black eye, that gigantic black eye… Her body had been littered with bruises in the days leading up to and immediately following her diagnosis because – as the doctor's had explained – the cancer cells were packed so tightly inside of her blood that it couldn't make room for any of the other cells, like those that kept her healthy or allowed things like cuts and bruises to heal.

"Yeah… it… I don't know, it looks like maybe he might be coming down with the flu or something." Krista reappears inside of Noah's doorway just as the boy begins to check his own body for signs of excessive bruising. "He's looking a little bit pale. He told me that everything is hurting him."

_"Does he have a fever?"_

From the closer proximity of Noah to the phone, he can hear her voice hiccup as she recovers from the initial surprise of Krista's announcement and forces herself to proceed through the motions, every word carefully orchestrated and written by the book, experience having since made her practically robotic.

"I don't know, let me check. Noah, buddy let me feel your forehead really quick, okay?" Noah closes his eyes as a cool hand rests against his forehead, sending an involuntary shiver radiating down the length of his spine. "Yeah… yeah, he's a little bit warm."

"Can she come home?" Noah breathes gently as Krista pulls her hand away from him, eyes squeezing closed as he whispers so softly that not even he can hear himself speak.

"What was that, Noah?" His aunt pauses, her eyes darting frantically, the busy law student suddenly struggling to multi task when it came down to a worried mother and her two sick children.

"I want my mom." Noah sniffles, speaking much more clearly as he feels his eyes moisten. He reaches upwards; two tiny, clenched fists that he uses to wipe away at the small tears leaking out of his eyes before anybody can see them.

"Noah wants to know if you can come home." Krista relays the message, but when Noah hears nothing but silence stemming from the receiver, he can tell immediately what Shelby's answer is going to be before she even has time to say it.

"_Rachel is having a bad morning."_

"So is Noah, Shelby." Krista defends Noah fervently from his own mother, and as good as it feels to have somebody stick up for him for a change, the surge is easily overcome by the disappointment regarding the circumstance.

_"Krista, you know that if I expose myself to whatever it is that Noah has they aren't going to let me back in to sit with Rachel for weeks." _

"Oh come on Shelby, what do you want me to do, wrap Noah in a bubble?" Krista's voice elevates, clearly as frustrated in her sister as Noah is in his mother. The reminder that Shelby has a point only makes it worse. With Noah being sick, he already expected there to be no chance of him getting anywhere near Rachel for weeks to come, and with Krista having been exposed to him, he knows that she will be fresh out of luck as well. If Shelby comes home, who knew when the next time somebody would be able to sit with Rachel would be. Noah tries to swallow the regret in the reminder that Rachel needed Shelby much more than he did right now, but he finds this feat more difficult in action than thought. "We'll be extra safe. We'll wash everything that Noah's touched twice hell we'll even quarantine Noah's room for you if that's what it takes."

_"That's not funny, Krista."_

"I wasn't trying to be funny, Shelby." His aunt makes the retort with ease, growing snippy with her sister in a way that leaves Noah understanding where it is that he has gotten his attitude from.

_"Alright listen, I'll stop home this afternoon for a little bit while Rachel is taking her nap…"_ Shelby makes the decision but Noah can tell by the tone in her voice that she is not pleased about it. A large part of him doesn't even believe her.

It brings Noah little comfort, if any at all.

"Okay, I'll talk to you a little bit later." Krista pulls the phone from her ear without so much as saying goodbye; a nasty habit that seems to be genetic.

Noah watches her rigid movements carefully, he's eyes furrowing in deep concentration. He can't help but to get the feeling that he is missing something, something important… It's only when his aunt finally makes to hang up with his mother that Noah remembers why it is that he so desperately needs to speak with her.

"Aunt Krista…" The sudden motion of his own vocal chords catches inside the back of his throat, releasing an irritated coughing fit that swallows the words right out of his mouth. She addresses his plight with sympathetic eyes but she doesn't hear him.

"Aunt… Krista…" He splutters again, forcing the words out of his mouth between breaths as he feels his face turning bright blue with effort, "Wait!"

"What's wrong, Noah?" She turns back towards him but it is already too late. The phone is off and discarded, Krista being under the false impression that by placing the entirety of her concentrated efforts onto him, she is actually doing him a favor when the reality is that the one person that he really needs to speak with doesn't ever listen.

"You have to call mom back…" He chokes through his words as they cling onto his very heart strings and tug with a pain that seeps through his chest and into his very spine. "Rachel… I pinky promised her that I'd be back to see her this morning!"

"Oh Noah…" Realization dawns inside of his aunt's face as her features sink with sympathy, although the slight, involuntary shake of her head is indicative enough that this is a pinky promise that will simply be impossible to keep. "Listen buddy, I'm sorry but you can't go and see Rachel while you're sick. You know that if she catches anything that you have right now it will be very, very bad for her."

"But she's gonna hate me!" Noah pleads his case, forcing himself to his feet in desperation, standing against his soft mattress so that he and his aunt meet eye to eye. He could not leave Rachel. Not now, not like this. He could not live with himself if he broke his promise to her now – not when he is the last thing on the face of this planet that she truly trusted and believed in anymore.

"She'll understand, sweetie." Krista tries to reason with him, but Noah knows that her words are just that – empty space. Nobody should have to understand being abandoned. Nobody.

He shakes his head firmly; a rush of dizziness that has Noah falling back down onto his backside against the mattress, his feet no longer able to support the crippling weight of the rest of his body. He lowers himself Indian style against his pillows, crossing his arms against his chest in an attempt to pass off his grief with anger. Figuring that the very least that he can do is show his aunt just how angry the injustice of this situation as a whole is leaving him.

'_Remember, only cheats go back on their pinky promises…'_

Rachel's words run through his veins like ice. She was never going to trust him ever again. Hell, _he_ would never trust himself ever again either… Noah finds himself suddenly wondering whether or not Rachel will ever so much as speak to him again, a vivid mental image glistening across his mind of him and Rachel going through the rest of their lives with her committing to no more than sneaking quick, periodical glances of anger towards his direction on the rare occasion that she actually allowed them to cross paths.

His mind races with worry… What if Shelby decides that she can no longer handle the animosity between her two children? What if, for Rachel's sake she sends him away to live somewhere else so that she wouldn't have to face the disappointment of her brother ever again? What if he's already missed his one and only opportunity to prove to her just how much he cares?

Rachel is going to go through the rest of forever believing Noah to be nothing more than an unfaithful cheat. This time, when the tears enter inside of his eyes, he doesn't bother doing anything to try and hide them as he shakes his head towards Krista's profession of Rachel's understanding and forces himself into a tight ball.

There is nothing that either his aunt or his mother can do now that will be able to convince him otherwise. And when he opens his mouth in order to inform Krista of this fact, not even he recognizes the deep bitterness that seeps straight upwards and out of his mouth.

"No she won't."

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><p><strong>Broadwaybound2016<strong>** – Sorry for the wait! Good news is the next chapter is mostly written already so it definitely won't be as long!**

**Miriami**** – Agreed. Shelby definitely isn't in the right state of mind right now, and neither is Noah for that matter but Shelby will get an opportunity to have her say. There's a lot more Rachel/Noah moments coming up in the next few chapters too! Also, sorry I totally forgot to send you that message thanks for the reminder! I'll send it when I get home from work today!**

**Princess-N-xoxo**** – Rachel is definitely selfless, that's for sure. She's also tired of watching her brother get tossed around like a rag doll on account of her sickness which is a big theme of these last couple of past chapters. But it's definitely gonna bring in a whole bunch of drama. Thanks for the review!**

**Marti**** – Thanks so much for the review! Things are definitely starting to catch up to this family and their starting to resort back to their old tendencies of coping which aren't always the healthiest means. Noah is getting back into his old habits of drinking and drugs while Shelby is focusing so much attention on Rachel that she doesn't know what to do with Noah while meanwhile, Rachel is kind of just stuck in the middle of it all. I'm glad you like Quinn in this story too. I love the idea of Quinn just being a support system for Rachel so I decided to throw it in here. The idea for Rachel that I had for this story was kind of like the very beginning of season 1 Rachel where she has a few acquaintances at school but no real friends so as Quinn starts to come to terms with herself a little more her and Rachel get closer. There will be more to come. Thanks again for your lovely words!**

**Just Me**** – Thanks so much! This whole family is definitely in the run around right now. They're kind of a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. His headaches aren't really much of anything more than stress tension and an excuse that he needs to start using drugs again as he starts going back to his old methods of coping. There's going to be a lot more scenes between Rachel and Noah coming up and the tension between Shelby and Noah is pretty much going to explode when she finds out. And also I definitely enjoy writing this as much as you enjoy reading this, if not more so thank you so much for fueling my fire to keep writing :)**

**Clara_Meliza**** – Why thank you! Sorry to leave you in a stupor :)**

**Adilamgp**** – Thank you!**

**Guest**** – Actually, reviews like this are the best kind. Constructive criticism is how I learn and it's refreshing to hear what is and isn't working because I don't use a beta so there is only so much that I can edit myself so input really does help. My reason behind heading into this direction is to show just how much Noah is being thrown into the loop right now. He spent an entire year being tossed around, having his dreams at his fingertips only to have it thrown away over and over again and the only place that it has left him is with no foreseeable future and no idea where he is going to be in the next year which is a terrifying feeling. Noah has no idea what he wants right now and it hasn't exactly placed him in the right state of mind. As for him using drugs, his past doesn't exactly plead his case for him. Noah has a history abusing drugs and alcohol, his coping mechanisms tend to be damaging to himself but he's pulled himself out of it once before… Also, this story won't be very relationships based. The only reason I put Rachel and Finn together for a little while is because Rachel wanted so desperately to still be a normal teenager immediately following her diagnosis but learned the hard way that simply isn't possible. Also, Quinn will just be used as a support system for Rachel. She never did have a lot of close friends and as Quinn begins to mature and grow out of the robotic control of her parents, she and Rachel will grow closer but strictly as friends. I too am more of a Puckleberry fan but I'm definitely not headed in that direction with this story :) I hope all of that made sense, once again thank you for everything!**

**Baygirl123**** – Thank you! Unfortunately, it is but all things must come to an end eventually :)**


	43. Noah Corcoran January 2012 Part II

**Hey guys, here's the next chapter! Hopefully it will make up for the long wait I made you all put up with the last time. Shelby's up next :)**

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><p><strong>Noah Corcoran<strong> – January 2012  
><em>(Part II)<em>

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><p>"Noah, get up!"<p>

Noah wakes to a heavy shove directly between his thick shoulders. His head feels as though it weighs about a thousand pounds, eyes cloudy with the residual side effects of the medication that he now depends on just to sleep through the night.

"Ugh…" Noah responds with a lengthy, drawn out growl as he rolls away from the disturbance, arm draped across his eyes in order to block out the offending sun light.

"Come on Noah, wake up." His mother is not gentle. Experience tells Noah that he never should have expected her to cut him any slack, especially when it came to the sport of trying to pull him out of bed before sunrise.

Shelby grasps at his comforter firmly, clutching it with both hands before pulling it off of Noah's body, clothed with no more protection than what a thin pair of boxer shorts can offer him.

Under normal circumstances, Noah knows that he could have countered his mother's puny actions with ease; guarding the source of his warmth before Shelby could even consider taking it away from him. But he is synthetically slowed and as a direct result, is left barren to the cold.

"It's your first day back to school and considering the way you began the first day of last semester, I'm hoping for at least a little, fraction of improvement for this one." Shelby provides Noah with her strict set of ground rules before Noah can so much as make himself conscious enough to argue with them. "That means actually _going_ to class, Noah. And absolutely no fighting with David Karofsky… or anybody for that matter."

"They extended winter break this year." He tries lazily but his efforts are lame at best. They succeed in absolutely nothing more than an extra firm nudge from his mother.

"Don't pull that crap with me like I'm some sort of idiot, Noah!" Shelby rapidly extinguishes Noah's hopes of being allowed to miss school today with his mother's blessing. It is starting to look like today, he is going to have to take matters into his own hands, but either way he would still be required to wake up. "Come on, you're going to be missing enough school as it is after this transplant happens, you can't afford to miss anymore. Especially after that last report card you brought home."

Noah's eyes widen in response to Shelby's words as his mother references the surgery that she still does not know Rachel will be fighting tooth and nail against.

"There you go…" She praises him sarcastically as she mistakes Noah's opening his eyes for his cooperation, turning back out from his bedroom, satisfied with her efforts. "You have ten minutes to get downstairs for breakfast."

"Or what?" They're the first true words that he's spoken to her since yesterday and still, his voice glistens with malice. The hostility from their argument has still not left him and he is not going to miss any opportunity that he gets to remind his mother of just how badly she screwed him over.

"You don't want to know." Shelby's eyebrows cock seriously, glaring straight through Noah as if to remind him that no matter the circumstance, she is the mother and he is the son. He will never have an edge over her.

When Shelby does finally walk out, she does so with an extra force in her step, stomping with a heavy gait into the hallway.

Noah counts her steps, waiting for Shelby to make her way down the stairs, back inside of her bedroom, _anywhere_ other than inside of his room… His eyes twitch with confusion when his ears stop registering the sound of her footsteps much too quickly for her to have actually gone anywhere…

Curious, Noah rolls out of his bed, feet landing against the cool wooden floor in a manner that sends shivers up his spine as he stands up woozily, stumbling where he stands only briefly before managing a couple of tentative steps forwards.

He is surprisingly silent as he walks on the balls of his feet, feeling foolish wearing nothing more than his underwear. Clutching against the doorframe, Noah peers into the hallway, eyes locating the cause of his mother's shortened trip instantaneously.

Shelby stands frozen outside of Rachel's closed bedroom door, a habit that she has taken to routine often these days. She is nose-to-nose with the wooden panel, her fingers clutched against the doorknob although she cannot seem to find the strength inside of her to actually open it.

It is almost as though she is praying to find her daughter on the other side of that door, sleeping inside of her own bed, waiting to be woken up for school.

It seems almost impossible now that it was only a couple of months ago now that Rachel was doing just that.

Noah's silence vanishes quickly; an overwhelming dizziness rapidly overcoming him so that he loses his ground, stumbling in a manner that snaps Shelby instantly out of her haze, her eyes darting upwards, narrowing in on Noah, focusing into a quick conclusion.

"Are you hung over?"

The accusation was imminent, Noah can only assume. Shelby has been keeping a close eye on him ever since middle school, experience having given her no other option as a concerned parent. The slightest sign of a slip up is concern enough for Shelby to question him, and although she has not had a need to enforce these rules in the last couple of years, the unprecedented parallels between the present, and the past that had initially brought Noah into this downward spiraling mess warrant the mother's fears.

In short, Noah's history with debilitating coping mechanisms hangs above his head just as prominently as Rachel's history with her health hangs above her own.

"No." His lie is snarky. He means for Shelby to see the truth seeping from between his teeth as he speaks.

For a brief second, she responds with utter silence. Without an immediate response prepared on her tongue, Shelby merely eyes him as if attempting to stare right through him, to read into his mind, his heart, his every need.

"Don't lie to me, Noah…" She finally settles.

"Why?" Noah's retort is so simple that he is certain his sharp mother is already expecting it. "You lied to me, and you're the one that I'm supposed to be learning all of my valuable life lessons from. Isn't that right, _mom_?"

"Is that what this is all about?" Her face settles into stone. If Shelby has been unnerved by her son's harsh remarks – which Noah is certain that she has – she does not show it, "You getting drunk, running around doing God knows what else and screwing up in school is about me hiding a football scholarship from you? Well I hate to break it to you Noah but Wittenberg College – or any college for that matter – they are looking for the Noah Corcoran that _I_ know is still inside of there somewhere, not this shell of a person that you are starting to become… again."

Shelby emphasizes the word _again_ as if Noah is not self aware of his own past, as if he does not remember what eight years of being shuttled back and forth behind the burden of a dead father and a sick sister have done to him the first time.

He never should have bothered to believe that it was not an inevitability that the same exact thing would happen the second time around as well.

"You have no idea what this is like, mom!" Noah shouts because he has lost all concept of self control a long time ago. His actions are brash and unpredictable while meanwhile, his mother continues to teeter on the verge of a complete breakdown with each passing day. It becomes sadly apparent to Noah in this moment that Rachel is the only constant that this family has to offer. Without her, this house is a nuclear explosion waiting to happen. "You have no idea what it's like to walk around being the kid whose sister has cancer."

"Oh really?" Shelby retorts with wide, sarcastic eyes, looking astonishingly towards her son's words as if she has been totally taken aback by them although for the life of him, Noah cannot figure out how anything surprised his mother anymore. "Do you really think that I have no idea what it's like, Noah? Are you forgetting that I have to walk around being the _mother_ whose daughter has cancer?"

"How can I forget? You walk around acting like that gives you free reign to forget that you actually do have another kid besides Rachel." His words are spit spitefully and even he is surprised by everything that is coming out of his mouth – years of pent up emotions spewing inside of one, single sentence that leaves Shelby frozen in her tracks, reeling backwards as her face contorts with the mixed emotions that her son's harshness has brought her.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She finally manages through a stuttering gasp of surprise as if refusing to believe that her son had actually just said what she thought he did.

"You're supposed to be there for me too, you know!" Noah swallows back the tears inside of his eyes. Now that he has already spoken up once, he finds that he is left with free reign to barrel through the multitude of insecurities that this family has left him with. "Listen, I get that Rachel is sick and everything mom, and I get that she needs you right now a hell of a lot more than I do, but lying to me… about something that huge?"

"I did it for you, Noah!"

"What, to protect me? To protect us?" He can almost laugh but Noah forces himself to suck the motion back in. He is angry with Shelby, he is certain that he has never been more angry with Shelby in his entire life, but he is in no way angry enough to put her down that badly… yet. "Look around you mom, you keep trying but you've gotta figure out eventually that you can't protect us! You couldn't protect dad, you can't protect Rachel and you sure as hell can't protect me… We're falling apart over here and denying it isn't gonna change the truth. It would be a lot easier for everybody if you just gave up right now."

He regrets his words the second that they are out of his mouth, but he cannot let his mother know this. Instead, he regroups himself quicker than his mother can, effectively turning back inside of his room and slamming the door behind him before Shelby can so much as get a good jump. She pounds on the door but Noah has enough strength in one of his arms to keep her out as he uses the other to employ the effective locking mechanism inside of his otherwise broken door; jimmying the flathead screwdriver through the crack between the frame and the panel.

"Noah!"

He can hear her crying as he backs slowly away from the locked door, this becoming a habit that seems to be growing between the two of them lately, and it only seems to be getting worse.

Noah moves through the motions quickly, dressing himself with a precise diligence that doesn't take him any more than five minutes… He can hear his mother pounding up against the door the entire time, but he manages to drown out her voice easily within the first couple of seconds.

The front door is not an option. Shelby sitting relentlessly at the other side of his closed bedroom ensures that. Instead, Noah throws his window open wide, releasing a rush of cool air against his face as he sneaks out onto the flat roof below him.

He hasn't cheated his way out of his own home like this since he was a freshman, back at that old correctional high school, sneaking out of the house every night in order to party, Shelby catching him in the act more than once yet never actually knowing what to do about it.

Although a little bit rusty, Noah still manages to jimmy down the length of the thick tree trunk at the far corner of the house with an expertise that would have anybody believing that he'd practiced these moves only yesterday. He lands perfectly against the grass, feet flat and relaxed, enlightened by the mental image of Shelby still pounding away at his bedroom door without even knowing that Noah was no longer even in the room.

Already deciding that he would not be attending school today, and probably would not be attending school tomorrow or the day after that, Noah instead gets inside of his car and drives off to the one productive place that he can think to go.

He tears down the street, rubber squealing against pavement. When he drives, Noah is silent, not even the radio available to distract him. His eyes stare straight ahead but he is not looking at anything but the blur of scenery before him.

Noah drives past a sea of green.

Lining the curbs, he passes row after row of abandoned Christmas trees, resting on their side just waiting to be thrown away…

He feels their pain easily.

It's difficult for him to imagine, that it was only a matter of days ago that they stood proudly inside of people's living room draped with lights and decoration, people who paid fifty bucks for a freaking tree sitting around it laughing, drinking, forgetting that they ever had any problems in their lives at all…

The branches are bare now; a couple of needles all that is left to decorate it now, and even these are rapidly starting to turn brown. It is an eyesore that they'll just have to deal with for the next couple of hours before the garbage trucks can make their rounds to pick them up. But for now, Noah is left pitying them in his understanding.

He knows all too well what it's like to be slowly dying and have the entire world watching you as you go.

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><p>It's been a day since Rachel had told him that she doesn't want to take his kidney under the false pretenses that it will help him make some sort of life altering decision – go to college for free, play football, maybe even professionally one day…<p>

Noah would be lying if he said that he didn't think that he would be able to properly convince her otherwise by now.

He walks inside of Lima Memorial Hospital with a single primary objective.

Noah knows Rachel's treatment schedule like the back of his hand. At this point, he is almost certain that he in fact knows it even better than Rachel does.

She won't be receiving dialysis today. Instead, he takes the turn straight towards the inpatient units, knowing full well that she will be directly in the midst of yet another chemotherapy session.

He barrels forwards the entirety of the journey towards her room but finds himself forced to stall before ever actually having the opportunity to enter.

Rachel is fast asleep, elevated only slightly against her bed as her chest rises and falls with deep, uneven motions.

Even when she is lost, far away inside of her own little world of peace she looks restless.

Her doctor dangles above her, leaning in low above her body, looking to be impossibly deep in thought as he presses his stethoscope against her frail chest, listening carefully before he repositions and repeats.

Only when he is finally satisfied does he bend himself back up at the waist into a perfectly upright position, moving with a heavy sigh as he wipes at his forehead - beaded with sweat - with the back of his palm before wrapping the stethoscope back around his neck and closing his eyes gently.

He doesn't see Noah, the boy is certain of this much. If he did, Dr. McCarthy's face would be trained like stone; a drained, emotionless façade covering what Noah is certain must be blocking something deeper on the inside – a lifetime's worth of working with children whose futures couldn't be foreseen any further than he could throw.

Noah thinks of Rachel, who this doctor has known for almost as long as Noah himself has, a measly four years being the only separation.

When his eyes finally meet with Noah's, they are red-rimmed.

"Noah…" He doesn't falter. Instead, Dr. McCarthy pulls himself together so quickly that Noah blinks and is immediately left with the impression that he made the entire thing up. "How are you holding up, son?"

"I'm okay." He lies because this seems to be the common theme surrounding his life these days.

"Is um… is your mom here with you?" He fidgets uncomfortably, an awkward tension building between the two for the first time since Noah can remember in the twelve years that he has known this man.

"No, she isn't coming until later…" Noah mutters the assumption downwards towards his feet, scuffing them slightly before his eyes glance upwards with interest. "What's… uh… what's going on in here?"

"I'd really like to wait until your mother is here."

His words are answer enough for Noah. Things are not looking good and generally around here, when things are not looking good, it's because they in fact _aren't_ good. At this point, the look inside of the doctor's eyes alone is more than enough for Noah to understand that things are going to start getting much worse before they could even have an opportunity to start to get better again.

"It's not good, is it?"

"No Noah," He shakes his head in confirmation through a heavy, shaking exhale. He is not stupid enough to lie to this boy, who has life experiences that could rival a person three times his own age. "It's not good."

Noah's breath catches inside of his throat. He tries to stabilize himself, but his knees buckle despite his best effort. No matter how many times he comes to this hospital and receives this kind of news, it is one of those things that never, ever become routine.

"Noah, Rachel's health is declining much faster than what we hoped for when we started her on dialysis…" He offers Noah the explanation out of respect for the understanding that this time around, Noah is not a child, capable of being sheltered from fear by a mother who knew that he had already seen too much. Noah is an adult now. They're all adults now.

Things are remarkably different despite his frequent insistencies that it all stays the same.

"What do you mean?" Noah knows exactly what it means. It is every fear that the doctors have projected upon them since Rachel started dialysis coming to light.

Noah just needs to hear it for himself.

"Noah, the fact of the matter is that some people are just not suitable candidates for dialysis." He transitions flawlessly back into the doctor that they needed right now and away from the emotionally fueled friend that could never power this drive to save Rachel's life – especially right now.

For this at least, Noah is grateful; the idea that they have located the best of both worlds nestled inside of their very own white knight… He can only hope that Rachel's miracle has not been used up already.

"And Rachel is one of those people?" Noah is blunt. He knows from experience that easing into bad news will only make things even worse. Either way, he already knows the answer to his own question. He doesn't need to hear it. Dr. McCarthy knows this, but he answers Noah anyway.

"Rachel is one of those people." He nods, "Noah, if this transplant is still going to be a viable option for Rachel than it is going to have to happen sooner rather than later… I know that you know this."

"How soon are we talking here?" Noah keeps his cool, a desperate attempt to act casual as though he did not just ask his sister's oncologist how long they will be able to hold out until she is dead.

"A week," He answers honestly, watching as Noah's eyes widen, his mouth pursing in a soft whistle to indicate his surprise towards the answer. It is the truth that he has suspected all along, but that does not make it any easier to hear, "Maybe even sooner."

"Wow…" Noah breathes, threading his long fingers through his slightly overgrown hair, just now beginning to stem from his scalp where he'd previously hacked it all off for Rachel's sake, "Wow."

"Noah, I have to ask…" Dr. McCarthy broadens his stance suddenly, placing a firm hand against Noah's shoulder before squeezing, "Are you ready for this? The transplant, I mean…"

"Of course," Noah responds with an immediate, confident bob of his head with no hesitation behind his motions. On the inside, he is screaming at what only he and Rachel know; that he may be ready for this, but the second half of an equation that only works as a whole no longer is.

In a brief lapse of judgment produced on a measure of hope alone, Noah perceives the fact that Rachel has yet to inform anybody of her plans as a victory.

If she hasn't in fact exposed her intentions, then maybe it had been a brash decision based on pride after all, Rachel's emotions overriding her ability to think rationally.

Maybe she's changed her mind. Maybe after having a night to think things through a little bit more carefully, she has finally come to her senses, realizing just how utterly ridiculous her plan is at all.

Noah allows his eyes to wonder until they latch onto Rachel's sleeping form. He watches her only briefly before he notices the sharpest burst of motion, a brief grimace directed as a response to Noah and Dr. McCarthy's conversation; an indication that she is not nearly as asleep as she has managed to fool everybody into thinking.

An indication of both that, _and_ her apparent distaste for the direction that this conversation is headed into – especially when Rachel had made her choice so obviously clear to Noah less than a day before.

"You're a good man, Noah." He smiles towards the boy but it is an action that Noah cannot bring himself to reciprocate. "I'll be back to check on her in about an hour or so."

Noah nods his head but remains otherwise silent as Dr. McCarthy turns towards the open hallway and Noah to Rachel… He has seen her a million times before in situations exactly like this one, but every time she always looks smaller than what he remembered her last. He can only guess how long it will take until she disappears completely.

'_A week. Maybe even sooner.'_

"You can stop pretending to be asleep now." Noah gives her a moment, a very brief moment to relish under the pretenses that her false slumber has actually worked before he decides to call her out on it. "I know that you're awake."

"Ugh… how?" Rachel grumbles her return through closed eyelids, groaning heavily before she sneaks her eyes open one at a time, even the smallest of movements looking as though it takes the greatest of effort.

"Because I've known you long enough to know when you're trying to avoid something." Noah makes his point, lowering himself inside of a chair adjacent to her bedside, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable as he eyes Rachel, waiting for her to respond.

"Two can play at that." Rachel smiles but her eyes are sad. There is nothing inside of her face to support the motions at the surface.

"We know everything about it each other…" Noah finishes her sentence for her, breathing heavily as he shakes his head against a conversation that he is in no way near prepared for.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel raises an eyebrow; curious to hear his response yet at the same time, not entirely sure that she wants to.

"I shouldn't have told you about that scholarship." Noah mutters, watching Rachel as her face falls dramatically. This time, there is not even a hint of a smile to make up for the overwhelming sadness behind her gaunt features. "It was stupid… It was selfish of me is what it was."

"Stop," Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, breathing through an extended bout of pain that is not just physical this time around. Her hands twitch at her sides. Noah can tell that it takes every fiber of her being not to reach upwards and hold them over her ears if only to block out the sounds that she does not want to hear.

"You didn't tell Dr. McCarthy! You didn't tell anybody!" His voice rises as he presents his formulated argument towards why Rachel wouldn't dare follow through with this plan of hers; a plan that could undoubtedly be translated into suicide. "I just talked to him Rachel, you heard it! He's still half expecting us to be on the operating table by the end of the week, him and everybody else _especially_ mom."

"You're not going to guilt me into this, Noah." Rachel shakes her head out of sheer determination, eyes narrowing inwards to emphasize just how serious she truly is, "This is all for you, you know."

"That's bullshit, Rachel!" His voice echoes across the room, translating into a gruff shout that has his sister flinching…

Noah bolts upwards to his feet, launching towards Rachel's bedside until both of his hands are clutching against the guardrails that separate them, knuckles turning white with the intensity of his grip. For a moment, he experiences a bout of regret towards his outburst but finds himself so incredibly overwhelmed by his sister's thought processes that the feeling leaves him just as quickly as it has come.

She doesn't want help. Instead, she would rather leave the saving for the people who actually sign up to be superheroes and this alone is enough to kill him.

They fall into an extended lapse of silence. For several seconds, Rachel's eyes meet with Noah's own; identical light brown orbs that both children have inherited to the exact from their mother.

Their faces are neutral for a long time. Noah is just beginning to wonder who is going to end up making the first move when he watches it become Rachel; his sister scrunching her face up suddenly, her noise twisting inwards with a look in her eyes as though she just smelled something fowl.

"Are you high?"

"What?" Noah is taken back by the suddenness of a seemingly random question but he retreats naturally alongside the understanding that Rachel is not one to be fooled; that in their close proximity, she possesses the capacity to read things in his eyes that nobody else can seem to pick up on. Things that only experience can tell her.

It is the bags layering underneath his eyes, just a little too deep to be from a simple case of stress and lack of sleep. It is the way that the movements of the star football player are just slightly more delayed than his athleticism would suggest. It is his proneness to overreacting; from growing highly emotional and energetic in his fluid motions to absolutely nothing…

Anybody else would blame it on his situation. She… she knows him better than that.

"Did you like… smoke weed or something before you came over here?" She begins to play twenty questions with her brother, prying him for answers that he merely scoffs in response to; an exaggerated movement that does nothing more than to draw attention to himself.

"Of course not…" Noah eventually speaks, finding comfort in the idea that he is not exactly lying.

"Seriously?" Rachel pushes him, clear in her disbelief, "Because right now you look like an old washed up rock start who just dragged his hung over ass home from an after party in the middle of the afternoon."

"Where did you even get that from?" Noah grows distracted by her analogy, but Rachel is not interested in faltering away from the main subject at hand.

"Answer the question, Noah!" With a surge of energy that Noah didn't even think that Rachel had left inside of her, she raises her voice vibrantly, squeezing her eyes shut in an effort to ease the frustration that is currently building inside of her chest like a disease. "What are you on right now?"

"Percocet,"

She is quiet as though she had not expected it to be this easy. Disappointment radiates inside of her face but she cannot seem to bring herself to say a single word. Words are not nearly enough to express the magnitude of her anger as if Noah doesn't already know just how badly he is fucking things up.

"It's fine!" He exemplifies although he knows just as well as Rachel does that it isn't. Noah shrinks in his attempts to push away from the subject. He does not want Rachel to know the truth about what the world has done to him. "It's a freaking prescription, alright? It's fine."

"That prescription should have run out weeks ago." Her tone is calm yet at the same time littered with disappointment. She sounds so much like Shelby that a part of him wants to turn around and storm out of this room and away from her without looking back once.

"Gee thanks _mom_," His voice is littered with sarcasm; a tone that seeps out through his very pores, "You can stop worrying about me now, alright? You should be worrying more about yourself and what's best for you right now and what's best for you is to stop being so damn stubborn and take what it is that I am offering you!"

"This isn't you, Noah…" Rachel shakes her head slowly in an expression of the complete and utter shock that her brother's behavior is currently causing her as if she did not have enough of her own problems, "It's been too long since I've seen you like this. You've come too far. You can't turn back now Noah, not because of me and not because of something stupid like this."

"Something stupid like this?" Noah repeats her words in the form of an appalled question as if it is impossible that he'd heard her correctly, referring to something as important as her life to _something stupid like this_. "Are you honestly going to tell me that if I walk upstairs right now, cut my damn kidney out of my own body and hand wrap it for you, you will not take it?"

"No."

"Stop trying to mess with the system Rachel." Noah slouches, sighing in exasperation towards the idea that he is getting absolutely nowhere but angrier and angrier in the midst of this conversation right now. "This is how these kinds of things work. We all have our roles to play here .I'm the fuck up whose actions are always getting overshadowed by the fact that in the end, all I'm here for is to be spare parts for you. And you… well you're the saint."

Noah lays down the conditions of their family appropriately, watching as Rachel doesn't make a single motion to either agree or disagree.

She thinks that she knows him but he can only guess that that goes both ways.

"This is _important_ Noah." Rachel emphasizes, tears sheathing across her eyes without ever actually falling, blocked by the insurmountable frustration towards the idea that her brother doesn't seem to see things the same way that she does. "Why am I the only one that can see this?"

"Because you staying alive is important too!" His argument is brash; loud, yet valid… but unfortunately not valid enough to get Rachel to agree with him.

"What and you staying alive isn't?" He is starting to get really tired of this argument. He just can't seem to bring himself to understand what she truly means. He can't think past the idea that this decision is not nearly as black and white as everybody but Rachel believes that it presents itself in more than two forms – either he lives and she dies or he lives and she does too.

Either way, Noah is the one that stays alive so for the life of him, he cannot understand why Rachel keeps telling him this.

"Do you even know what the rate of surviving a kidney donation is?" Noah asks her in his misinterpretation of her words, taking it in more of a literal manner when deep down Noah knows that Rachel doesn't mean him staying alive as much as she means him _staying alive_. "It's like more than 99%. And you know as well as I do that the only people that ever do actually die are decrepit old people that had absolutely no business being on the operating table in the first place."

"That's not what I meant, Noah…" Rachel informs him but the truth is that she didn't need to. He already knew this much.

"Listen, you have wanted to be on Broadway since you were a kid, Rach." It's a low blow and he knows it. And judging by the look on Rachel's face, she does too. "Are you really going to throw that all away for some stupid, noble reason of pride that I don't even agree with?"

"You need to stop worrying about me Noah. It's your turn now; your turn to finally start living your dreams." Her final word resonates profoundly against the both of their chests. It isn't a matter of turns. If it was, Rachel's argument would be invalid – she never had the opportunity to have hers. Rachel's dreams just always had a tendency to be overshadowed by the reminder that they may only ever remain just that – _dreams_. "I've had my chance and it's over."

"Stop trying to convince me that this will all be worth living in the end, it's not working." Noah's voice drops into a low growl. He's defeated, completely out of ideas on how to reason with his clearly unreasonable sister. "If you… if you go Rachel then nothing will be worth living anymore."

"I'm not saying that it won't be hard for a little while…"

"A little while?" Noah cuts her off, desperately trying to inform her that if he loses her, he is quite certain that it is something he will never recover from… Him and Shelby left to their own devices, a task that they couldn't commit to even with Rachel still alive.

"You're a strong enough guy Noah. You'll move on, it's what you do." She shrugs in her attempt to downplay the situation as if this is enough; as if strength alone is enough to help him survive losing his sister.

"You are not the only factor in this equation here, Rachel!" He's losing control, he can sense it. He feels badly instantly, the second that he watches Rachel flinch from inside of her bed. "It's my decision too and I already made it."

"Jesus, look at yourself Noah." She looks as though she can almost laugh, "This is a brash decision that you made in a fit of drugs! You need to think this through, to clear your head. Just because you're my big brother doesn't mean that you're obligated to do anything for me."

The truth resonates deep inside of their veins. Rachel doesn't say these exact words but every time she speaks, Noah thinks them – how can he expect to save his little sister when he can't even save himself?

"That's kind of what the title of being a big brother is all about." His voice resonates into silence. There is nothing more that can be said, no more of an argument to be had. He's out of ideas. He's out of ways to try and convince her to do things his way.

It doesn't just pass through his mind, the idea that he is giving up on her already.

"So… do you ever plan on telling mom about this?" Noah pulls for a different route. Yelling at her hadn't worked. Trying to guilt her into submission hadn't worked. Now the only thing that he can hope is that scaring her against the wrath of Shelby when she undoubtedly found out about Rachel's master plan would be enough.

"I guess I'll have to eventually." Rachel shrugs in her attempt at sounding casual but Noah can see the fear inside of her eyes. He can hear it inside of her voice.

"Tell me what?"

The two freeze simultaneously, Rachel blanching a further shade of what than what her ghostly features already display. The two siblings stare quickly at each other. Neither needs to turn towards the doorway to know that Shelby is standing there, picking the most inopportune time to make her appearance.

Noah hasn't seen his sister look this scared since they were children and Noah had tried to convince her that things like vampires and ghosts and monsters under the bed were real.

"Um…" Rachel begins to stammer only after the three have already spent a significant amount of time staring between one another in silence, trying to read each other's faces, each attempt failing worse than the last.

Noah's eyes glance across Shelby's own but the motion is nothing more than a quick dart of the head from either before they immediately turn away. Neither has forgotten the other's frustration-fueled words of anger, things that they both wish they could have taken back although neither is willing to forgive.

"Tell me _what_, Rachel?" Shelby asks her once more, this time with an emphasis on her initial words. Her blood is boiling beneath the surface. Shelby has already gone through much too much today and it was barely eight o'clock. Her eyes narrow inward upon Rachel as if to inform her that she has already been caught, she might as well come out and tell Shelby the truth before she makes it even harder on herself.

"Rachel is denying taking my kidney."

Noah blurts the truth after several long, tense seconds of building up a silence that he simply could not handle anymore. The words slip from his tongue. He is not even entirely certain that he has meant to say them.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that please?" Shelby's eyebrows arch dangerously – if looks could only kill – as if daring him to repeat himself. She stares heavily through Noah for the first time since they had met inside of the hallway of their home and Shelby had been left attempting to identify whether or not he was hung over.

"Rachel found out about the Wittenberg recruiter, about how they won't take me if I'm missing a kidney so now she's refusing to have the surgery." Noah stammers through his elaboration, his voice remarkably softer as he gulps in the fear of Shelby's reaction.

Even when he is pissed at her, he still fears the wrath of his mother angry.

Shelby falls into silence. A couple of seconds ago, Noah had believed his honesty might provide him with a sense of rescue, but now he finds that he'd felt much more comfortable walking his own road, doing things for himself and himself only… He is tired of circumstance throwing him into a complete and utter hell.

After all, this morning Noah had woken up and easily fell into the place of least favorite child in Shelby's book. But the way that she stares at Rachel now with a look of utter disbelief inside of her eyes, Noah is quite certain that the both of them are suddenly back in the running for this spot.

Noah is usually the member of this family addicted to friction, but even this is beyond his reach.

"Jesus Christ, Rachel…" She breathes heavily in through her nose before pushing her attempt towards stress relief from her mouth. "Do you have any idea what the consequences would be?"

She leaves no space for a response. Rachel's throat closes and Noah's follows suite. For once in his life, he is glad to be invisible from her.

"Mom, you need to calm down." Her pacing is making even him dizzy and Noah is glad for Rachel's interference. He can only imagine what Shelby's movements must be doing to her.

"I need to calm down?" She is frantic. Shelby looks _crazed_ as she stares wide-eyed towards Rachel, pointing towards her own chest, shocked that Rachel would ever even think to say something like this after the blow that she had just delivered her.

Noah is almost certain that Shelby would have taken it better if Rachel had stood up and punched her square in the face.

"You sign your own death sentence and I'm supposed to calm down?" Shelby is blunt in her frustrations, perhaps a little too much so. Her emotions fuel her words that she can never take back although by the way that her body slackens and face pales into a shocked silence, Noah can tell that she wishes she could. "I'm sorry," She corrects herself quickly. "I shouldn't have said that."

Rachel says nothing, neither confirming that she has been offended by Shelby's words nor denying it. Her face is neutral, Noah can't read it. He is only left to his own devices and the assumption that she is.

He would be.

"Noah, you need to go to school," Shelby finally turns towards him, addressing him without yelling for the first time in a long time. "To _really_ go to school this time, please… I need to have a talk with your sister alone right now."

"Yeah, you don't have to ask me twice." Noah breathes, grateful for an opportunity to leave in the midst of a conversation that he damn well certain does not want to be a part of.

Noah pushes himself up to his feet. He has been at the brunt end of this sort of talk with his mother a million times before but he knows that Rachel can't say the same – she could never be prepared.

He flashes her a grimace that's supposed to double as a supportive smile. She returns the motion to its exact; a soft nod that only reflects her trying to inform him that she is going to be okay.

He can only pray to God that she is right.

* * *

><p>For the first time in a while, Noah actually finds himself listening to the directions that his mother has given him.<p>

He drives his old, beat down Chevy towards William McKinley, pushing eighty down route eighty and half wishing that he will take a bad slide over a steep turn, pitch his truck into a ditch, blow up and solve all of his and the rest of his family's problems with one swift motion.

It would be so fast that he wouldn't even see it coming.

Even he is surprised with his level of dismay when he pulls inside of the senior parking lot unscathed.

Inside of the hallways Noah has long since learned to keep his head down. Once the king of this school, he is now diminished into nothing.

All over town these days, people commit to nothing more beyond shooting him brief smiles that are meant to be comforting but are really just the exact opposite. He imagines being inside the heads of his peers; people who on the inside, are thinking all about how he is rude or stupid or ugly but on the outside, are forced to act nice to him under the impression that it is not his fault that he grew up to be like this, it is just a product of his circumstances.

Noah considers it to be one lucky point amidst an otherwise unlucky existence that his arrival into the high school has coincided directly with a time that everybody else is just getting into their second period class. Once so inexplicably suave in front of large crowds today, the silence brings Noah comfort.

Out of habit he keeps his head down anyway, staring at his feet as he walks.

He should have known that it would only be matter of time until he rounded a corner directly into somebody.

Noah bounces off of a body larger than even his own with such an unexpected force that he stumbles backwards, damn near falling flat on his ass before he somehow manages to catch himself.

"Shit, I'm sorry…" Noah starts to apologize but finds his own words catch inside of his throat the second that he finally does look up, his eyes catching the form of a familiar, lumbering teen recovering from the blow himself.

"Puck…"Finn greets Noah with an overwhelming awkwardness heavy behind his deep voice as his broad shoulders hunch forwards.

Noah stiffens defensively, his eyes darting inwards as they latch onto Finn's, refusing to allow the taller boy to break the contact no matter how hard he tries to look away.

His mouth sneers upward; the only response that the boy makes beyond a soft growl as he turns his back on Finn and makes to storm away from him wordlessly.

"Puck, wait!" Noah makes it no more than a handful of steps away from him before he feels a hand against his shoulders, strong fingers wrapping around the stiff joint, jolting him back around.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Noah's response is violent as he rips his body out of Finn's grasp, planting two firm hands against his chest and shoving the much larger boy away from him. Finn is practically twice his size but still, Noah sends him flying. "You want me to wait? What, do you want me to sit around and wait for you just like Rachel did? You do remember Rachel, right? The girl that is sitting inside of a hospital bed right now waiting for you to call her, to text her, to send her a god damn get well card while she's dying?"

"I screwed up, man!" He admits to his mistakes as if it will be enough for Noah to forgive his former best friend for what he's done. In Noah's mind, _screwed up_ is an understatement. "I know that alright?"

"You're god damn right you screwed up!" Noah doesn't try to make Finn feel better. Instead, he takes advantage of the guilt that the boy is already feeling, using his frustrations to fuel his motions as he shoves Finn even further back until his body crashes with a loud thud against the lockers.

Noah marches forwards towards him, an aggressive gait that has Finn flinching for fear that Noah's intentions are to hit him. For a second, even Noah thinks that this is the direction that he will be going towards.

He praises a rare bout of self control when he manages to stop himself at the last second and instead, settles on pointing a stiff finger directly into Finn's chest.

"You stay the fuck away from my sister, Hudson."

With one final shove into the lockers, Noah turns from Finn once more, his intentions clear in his desire to keep Finn Hudson as far behind him as humanly possible.

But Noah only makes it a handful of steps further than his last attempt before Finn is calling him back once more.

"I joined the army!" His announcement echoes loudly down an otherwise empty hall. Noah processes the news with a neutral face and an honest lack of any sort of opinion. But still, he slows to a halt without turning to look at Finn anyway. "I, uh… I'm leaving for basic in Missouri a little less than a week after graduation." He mistakes Noah's stillness for interest, "I'm not… I don't know how to tell Rachel. I don't know what to say to her with all of the shit that she's going through already."

The mention of Rachel's name slipping past Finn's lips sparks something heated inside of Noah. He flips around to face him, red faced and eyes teeming with anger as he storms back towards Finn who flinches into submission against the lockers once more, bracing his body for yet another blow.

"You be a man about it, that's how!" Noah presses his chest tight against Finn's. They're eye to eye as Noah delivers the advice that Finn was much too stupid to figure out for himself. "You be a damn man and fix the problems that you start. How the hell do you expect to defend a country if you can't be a man enough to defend your girlfriend when she needs you the most?"

Finn stammers but no physical words are ever actually produced from beyond his mouth as Noah refuses to relent in his staring a hole through him.

There is no sympathy inside of his eyes. No matter the circumstance between them or the experiences that they have faced, Finn and Noah have still been best friends for practically their entire lives. A true friend is simply not capable of feeling sorry for you. Instead, they're intended to beat your ass into the ground for you when they know that you have screwed up.

"Fix it." Noah spits, turning away from Finn for the third time throughout the progress of their brief conversation.

This time, nobody makes a single move to call him back.

* * *

><p>Natural order takes him straight into the choir room.<p>

Noah has already missed enough of his first period algebra class to warrant his not bothering to go at all and besides, he needs a quiet place, a place that he can catch some fresh air by himself right now.

He stands inside of the center of the room, facing the short rows of chairs that he hasn't sit inside of for weeks now. Placing his hands on his hips, Noah hangs his head down towards the floor but he only manages a handful of slow, steadying breaths before there is a knock at the open door. Noah should have known that his bid for solitude would be broken up practically before it even started.

This seems to be the running habit these days.

"Hey, can I come in?"

"It's a free country," Noah addresses the blonde without even having to look up to identify her as she begins to walk towards him. Her soft, unique voice is an indication enough. "What are you following me or something now?"

"I just… I saw you with Finn… Is everything okay?"

Of course Quinn has seen him with Finn. He should have known that with all of the noise that the two of them were making, he must have attracted at least one person's attention… But Noah, still tentative about tying bonds with Quinn Fabray, can't help but wish that it had been anybody but her.

"What is this some sort of fucked up Christian bullshit?" Noah turns to face her violently. He is already strung up tightly on an extremely short circuit, exploding – perhaps unfairly – at the girl who in the long run, was really only trying to help. "You acting like you're some sort of Mother Theresa reincarnation all of a sudden to try and make up for a lifetimes worth of bad shit stock piled in your past?"

"No," Quinn's voice is calm as if to indicate her awareness towards Noah's distrust being warranted but at the same time, Quinn has always been impossibly persistent in her attempts to get people to see things from her own, personal perspective.

He can only guess that some things never do change.

"Then are you gonna tell me what this is actually all about?"

"No," Quinn smiles as if she is trying to get a rise out of him by telling him that she is now only toying with him. Noah can only narrow his eyes towards her in his indication that he is not in the mood for games. Quinn's face falls with recognition for this fact, eyes dropping away from his own as she shoves her hands inside of her pockets and risks taking a couple of additional steps closer towards him. "Listen Noah, I don't expect you to trust me, not after everything that's happened between us but at the same time, I'd like to think that joining the glee club and actually learning from our experiences for a change have changed you just as much as it changed me."

"Why now?" Noah shoots off his question quickly as though it has been burrowing inside of the innermost sectors of his mind for weeks now… A part of him believes that maybe it actually has.

"Let's just say that I'm through with falling for every ounce of bullshit rhetoric that my dad spews at me. I'm tired of it." Quinn shrugs in her subtle indication towards every wrong that Russell Fabray has ever done; to Quinn, to Noah and his family…

Noah hasn't so much as thought about that sorry excuse for a man in years. In general, he tried to keep Mr. Fabray, more specifically the reminder of his mere existence, out of his mind entirely… But that did not mean that he doesn't remember it, because he does… the rumors that he had spread following Hiram's death, the cheating that withheld so much from them while Rachel had been sick the first time, the way that he used is own young daughter to spread his propaganda to the entirety of the school…

But most importantly, the truths which all of his points always held at least to an extent; the truths that always seemed to hurt worse than anything else.

"I'm my own person now, Noah and I would like to think that the least we can do is consider ourselves the kind of friends that can talk to one another now."

Noah pauses. He considers Quinn's offer in silence, the thick quiet falling between the two like a heavy fog.

Quinn isn't persistent, she chooses not to rush the opportunity and for that, Noah is grateful. It gives him time; time to think, time to concentrate, time to breathe.

For a long time they sit like this. The first motion that Noah commits to for a long time is to turn his face inwards, burying his head inside of his palms, digging his fingers down into his closed eyelids in an effort to block the threatening tears from actually falling.

"Rachel isn't accepting my kidney as a donation anymore." Noah finally tells her, murmuring so heavily into his own palms that he's surprised Quinn even hears him. "She's refusing to go through with the transplant."

"What?" Quinn shows a genuine display of shocked confusion as she perks towards Noah's words, stiffening in a search for logical answers that Noah knows he won't be able to provide her with, "But… but I just talked to her the other day and she seemed all for it."

"Yeah well, that was before I got offered a scholarship to play football at Wittenberg College and the athletic director told me that he wouldn't be able to follow through on it if I was missing a kidney." Realization slowly dawns inside of Quinn's eyes as her muscles slowly loosen, relaxing with a sudden burst of understanding. "I was the stupid one for telling Rachel in the first place."

"It wasn't stupid." Quinn counters with a soft shake of her head, sounding remarkably like his own sister in this moment. "You two are close and that's big news… It's only right that you shared it with her."

"But I should have known!" Quinn inadvertently grants Noah permission to release every single feeling that has been pent up inside of him ever since Rachel had made her unexpected announcement. He screams with a burst of energy that has the blonde flinching. "I've known my sister for my entire life! I should have known that she would have reacted like this!"

"Wow… and here I was thinking that all this time all of this was just about Finn going after Rachel… again." Quinn smirks in her ill advised attempt towards a joke, but this does not make Noah feel any better. In fact, it only makes things worse. "I should have known better…"

"I'm not worried about that anymore." Noah shakes his head, sounding much more confident than he feels. The words slip out of his mouth but he cannot bring himself to believe them. It sounds as though he is trying a lot harder to convince himself than he is Quinn. "Rachel isn't a moron she can take care of herself. Besides, some things you just have to learn for yourself… Love is always cruel. She knows that now."

The smile vanishes from inside of Quinn's eyes as she quiets in an effort to give Noah the opportunity to act upon a much needed lament.

"Everyone is always so focused on Rachel dying, so worried about it… You know that if Rachel died tomorrow, God forbid I bet that a million people would come to her funeral." Noah rambles, watching as Quinn's eyes soften with concern, trying to figure out where exactly Noah plans on going with this. "I know that it's selfish of me but the only thing that I can think about is what would happen if I died… Do you honestly think that it would make any sort of difference?"

"Stop talking like that…" Quinn breathes softly, trying to tell Noah that this is something that he shouldn't be thinking about right now even though she must know that this is _all_ that he can think about… He can only assume that when you don't actually spend your lifetime being forced to come to grips with your own mortality, the suddenness of a reminder that it is bound to happen eventually _does_ tend to come as a shock.

"Why?" Noah counters easily, forcing Quinn to see the truth behind his words, to really, truly remember to live out every single day as though it is going to be his last because one day, it will be. "It's the truth."

"It would make a difference, Noah!" She finally addresses his initial question, her mind finally settling with the understanding of everything that Noah is trying to do for her, that if she wanted to hang around with the Corcoran family, she was just going to have to ensure that the word _dying_ possess no greater meaning inside of her vocabulary than any other common verb.

It is the only way that they can make it.

"Yeah?" He questions her seeming confidence, perhaps unfairly so, but it is an answer that he needs. "To who, Quinn?"

"To me," Noah quiets immediately. Quinn speaks so confidently, so devoid of hesitation that Noah can't help but to fall back slightly, "To the rest of the glee club. To your football teammates, to the large majority of this school, to your mother, to Rachel…"

Quinn ticks off the long list against each one of her fingers but Noah can't bring himself to listen any longer. He turns sharply away from her, screaming in his frustration towards the idea that he can never seem to find the confidence inside of himself to believe that he has truly made an impact on any one of these people's lives other than to make it worse off.

"Not the way that I see things." He finally regains his ground enough to speak, slumping as he shakes his head slowly as if to tell Quinn that as much as he appreciates her coming out here to try and make him feel better, she was wasting both her time and her breath; two things that he has since learned that people tended to take much too much for granted.

"Stop it." She is no longer gentle, having granted it upon herself, the duty of pulling Noah out of this funk that he has landed in. "You shouldn't be thinking like that anyway. Everything is going to be okay."

"Oh yeah?" He shoots back disbelievingly, his voice littered with a sarcasm that Quinn does not even flinch in response to. "How do you know that?"

"Because," She informs him through a smile. "I have a plan."

* * *

><p><strong>Gleeks09<strong>** – Thank you! I'm honored!**

**FlatWeasley**** – They're definitely strong kids that's for sure. You'll see the ending soon, but I can't make you any promises. :) **

**TheCdKnight**** – Because I am evil that's why :) Thanks for the review and the kind words!**

**Just Me - Haha I know, right? I always just wanna give them all a big hug. Thanks for the review!  
><strong>


	44. Author's Note - I'm Sorry!

I hate to do this to you guys and I'm so, so sorry for the faux chapter author's note that everybody hates but I have an important little announcement.

Me and my family lost almost everything in Hurricane Sandy this past Sunday. I was born and raised in New York City and to see it all get washed away like it did has been nothing short of devastating. Things have obviously been a little bit hectic around here. I'm staying with family in NJ for the time being, running on generator fumes but beyond that the majority of our time is being focused on salvaging what we can and eventually rebuilding.

You have all been so supportive these past couple of months, I just wanted to give you an update as well as to let you know that I do not plan on giving up on this story! Just please try not to get too frustrated with me when things slow down for a little while.

Once again thank you all for your unwavering support. It means much more than you know.

- Stephensone


	45. Shelby Corcoran – January 2012 (Part I)

**Wow. That's all I can really say. The outpouring of support has been absolutely amazing and words cannot describe how grateful I am. Things are starting to get back to normal around home. The big issue is that we had flood waters up to the ceiling and a tree through the roof but New Yorkers are resilient and all of the love carries us far :) Any who, turns out being out of a home is pretty dull stuff. Clean up is at a dead stop cause we had snow Wednesday and I'm spending my days pent up with my large family (including two newborns) so writing has been an incredible outlet, as always. Thank you guys so much for letting me share it, it really does make everything that much easier.**

* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran – <strong>January 2012  
><em>(Part I)<em>

* * *

><p>When you have a child and that child becomes sick it is so easy to forget that a world outside of her still exists.<p>

Every time Shelby steps out of the hospital these days, she does so with an utter shock towards the fact that there even still is such a thing as the outdoors anymore... And even on the days that she does manage to convince herself that this is all a ream, that it is all one big, confounding impossibility, life always finds a way to come knocking and prove her wrong once more.

Still, Shelby turns inside of her driveway only to find a pile of bills stacked so thick inside of her mailbox that it won't even close anymore. Still she watches as her neighbors run frantically, meaningless errands. Still she receives phone calls from frustrated bosses tired of half-assed work insisting that she come in to actually perform the job that she is being paid to do...

It had only been for a half a day, barely four hours of actual, physical work. The problem had resided in the idea that lately four hours is just enough time for Shelby to find herself entirely in the dark towards whether or not Rachel was still conscious, stable, _alive_...

Shelby races from Carmel High School back to her own home the moment that she calls a wrap on an unavoidable Vocal Adrenaline rehearsal that her heart had understandably not been into... The boosters are on their final straw with the praised former Broadway star that they had been so delighted to hire only months before.

Apparently having a child with cancer is no excuse for Shelby not to work their own spoiled children to the bone in the quest for a national show choir competition title...

Shelby wishes that this was her biggest problem in life.

With just over three months to spare until nationals - an already inconvenient event made only more so by being hosted in Los Angeles this year, half a world away from her children – Shelby, for the first time in her entire life finds herself not looking forward to being engaged in competition, instead searching for any and every excuse to stay behind without being fired from a job that neither her, nor her children can afford for her to lose right now.

She worries about leaving Noah and Rachel home alone under normal circumstances, the party that her son had hosted for half of William McKinley High School during her last absence – a mere weekend visit to her sister's two hours away – reminding her of the reason why.

These circumstances... well these circumstances are far from normal.

Shelby can't lie to herself, she had been hoping for things to have grown at least a little bit easier by now, that they could have grown beyond the stresses that Rachel's initial diagnosis had brought, fallen into a routine revolving around her getting healthier rather than sicker...

She should have never been so naïve.

Shelby is embarrassed by the fault. She knew these ropes, as far as coping with a child with cancer goes she is _experienced_. She cannot for the life of her figure out why she had ever believed that things would get better before they got worse.

She bursts like a hurricane inside of her own home, moving so quickly that her surroundings become a blur.

The couple of hours that it's been since she's last been inside of the hospital with Rachel has proved to be her longest streak of absence that she can remember... It becomes sadly apparent to Shelby that Lima Memorial is even more familiar to her than her own home is.

But Shelby is losing her.

She can sense it in each and every passing day. It is the combination of chemotherapy and dialysis, the cancer, the kidney dysfunction... it is all coming together, chipping slowly away at Rachel's already fragile body, eating at what little of her daughter that Shelby still had left.

Her son... well her son is a completely different story for a completely different day.

Lately, Shelby finds herself getting through her days by making a job of counting down until Rachel's kidney transplant as to not focus on the storm that is currently brewing around its greater circumstance.

If she does it any other way Shelby is certain that she will lose what little sanity she actually has left.

Before Rachel had unceremoniously denied her brother's kidney in the midst of every one of their preparations to produce it for her, the transplant had been scheduled to take place as early as by the end of the week.

Shelby is adamant in her refusal to believe that this will still not happen, that Rachel's lack of cooperation is nothing more than a childish insistency and that she will sooner or later – although preferably sooner – come to her senses in the realization of just how detrimental it will be for her health.

She prepares for nothing less than the fact that she will soon have two children back inside of her house, both recovering from major surgery.

But Shelby's denial is starting to get harder... The multitudes of doctors assigned to Rachel's case, some she knows but most she can never even remember the name of, have all generally agreed on at least one thing – that Rachel's lack of consent towards being treated is leaving them with very few options. There is only so much that they can prepare her for a surgery whose future isn't even certain while meanwhile Rachel's health is deteriorating and it is deteriorating fast.

More recently, the doctors' tactics have taken a turn towards subtly trying to inform Shelby that this waiting around for Rachel to come to her senses is not going to work for very much longer, that as Rachel's health continues to crumble, the risks that she will face on the operating table will only increase to a point that the option will become eventually impossible... As if Shelby didn't already have enough to worry about, she now faces the very strong likelihood that she will soon be forced to make a decision regarding this surgery – wait for Rachel to finally come to her senses, give consent for the operation and risk Rachel dying on the operating table _or_ choose not to take this risk at all, give her daughter an extra couple of days, maybe even weeks...

She has yet to bring herself to face the idea that ultimately, this may be a choice that she has absolutely no say in.

It seems impossible... At the beginning of all of this, every time Shelby had looked down towards her daughter she had been so hopeful. These days, she had absolutely no idea what to believe in anymore.

Either way her options did not seem to fare well in Rachel's case. The risks have proven to be too great for Shelby to be anywhere close to comfortable.

Rachel has not exactly been open for discussion either... It is her means of personal protest against Shelby's insistencies regarding this donation despite everything that it will mean for Noah and now, all that Shelby has left is a daughter convinced that her mother's main purpose is to favor one child over another and a son that can barely stand to so much as look at her these days...

Of course, Noah has been experiencing his own issues lately, Shelby's head spinning with the pressures of trying to keep up with one child slipping away from her emotionally while the other was slipping away from her very physically.

She has been forcing herself to focus on Rachel by reminding herself that Noah can find another means by which to move forward with his future while Rachel's was much less certain... If she had to scrape by for the next four years on the bare minimum, pick up a second, maybe even a third job for a means to send her son to college than she would do just that.

Rachel on the other hand... Well it isn't exactly that easy to simply collect money and pick up a new kidney at the store...

The evidence is insurmountable towards their best bet being this operation... She cannot begin to wrap her head around why it is that Rachel is doing this and she is certain that she will never possess the capacity to do so.

She sees everything as it is laid out directly in front of her... How can she not? But it is getting harder and harder for her to believe anymore and if seeing is believing than the only thing that Shelby is certain that she believes in anymore is that she has lost her mind entirely.

* * *

><p>"<em>Rachel is denying taking my kidney."<em>

_Shelby hears Noah's voice through his stunning confession but after this, there is absolutely nothing – not her own voice not even her own mind as she attempts to piece together the magnitude of everything that her son has just told her. _

"_You sign your own death sentence and I'm supposed to calm down?"_

_Shelby comes back into consciousness with an understanding that she has allowed for her emotions to override her conscious thought in saying one of the worst possible things that she could ever think to say in this moment. _

_ Being so blunt, so straightforward about the implications of this decision, Rachel's brash act of stupidity is a strictly unwritten rule inside of this family, which has a tortured history of saying the things that they shouldn't and not saying the things that they absolutely should._

_ Shelby stiffens, her posture broadening in the recognition of her mistake. Silence chirps uncomfortably all around them, the quiet filtering through as the loudest noise that any of them have heard all day... Shelby's ears pound, she can hear her own heart beating inside of her chest, a pang of regret reverberating inside of each and every thump. _

"_I shouldn't have said that."_

_Rachel is silent, but her eyes say more than enough as she stares briefly inside of Shelby's own... She is forced to look away from her own daughter. Shelby has a difficult enough time dealing with Noah giving her this look all day long, she is certain that she will not be able to handle it if Rachel starts making it a habit as well. _

_ "Noah, you need to go to school." Shelby addresses her son in an effort to give Rachel the opportunity to calm herself outside of her mother's prying eyes. "To really go to school this time, please... I need to have a talk with your sister alone right now."_

_ "Yeah, you don't have to ask me twice." Noah is graciously complacent, Shelby calming briefly in the reminder that there is still at least a piece of the son that she knows and loves so much inside of there, that there is still hope to save him while hope to save Rachel rapidly diminishes..._

_The two Corcoran women sit in silence, fiddling with discomfort as they stare everywhere except for towards each other, watching as Noah makes his motions quick in packing his things, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before marching quickly from the room without so much as a word._

_ For a long time, there is nothing but silence between them. Shelby doesn't even know where to begin, how to shake such a ridiculous idea of this magnitude out of Rachel's overly determined head... Never before has Shelby regretted passing along her tireless motivation to her child until today._

_ But whatever she does, Shelby knows that she has to do it quickly. _

"_What are you thinking, Rachel?" Shelby's voice is surprisingly calm, but even the quietest of motions has Rachel flinching... It's a question that she does not want to answer as though she had been hoping that Shelby would simply not notice when Rachel and Noah never actually went into surgery, when Rachel's health only continued deteriorating to a point of no return. _

_ "Rachel, I need you to talk to me right now." Shelby doesn't adhere towards Rachel's bid for silence. Her basic maternal values simply will not allow it. "Come on, what's going on inside of that head of yours?"_

_ "You have to promise that you won't get mad at me..." Rachel is shamed into looking down inside of her own lap, her voice falling to barely above a whisper. _

_ "I..." Shelby stammers in her refusal to make a promise that her temper, shortened with worry may not be able to commit to._

_ "Promise!" Rachel insists with a surge of energy, raising her head to eye her mother seriously so that Shelby can't help but to linger, to take advantage of actually being able to catch a glimpse of the Rachel that she knows – the one with so much fight behind her eyes..._

_ "Okay..." Shelby concedes through a short nod although she does so begrudgingly alongside the understanding that there is no way that Rachel will ever confide in her otherwise, "Okay, I promise!"_

_ "Noah isn't Noah anymore..." Rachel tells Shelby a fact that the mother already knows, but has yet to bring up the courage to actually face... It's with a pang of regret and a sense of cowardice that she recognizes that Rachel is braver in terms of confronting her own son than she was, that she is braver in terms of just about everything, "Ever since they arrested him for fighting with Karofsky... It's starting to get like before, mom."_

"_I know..."_

"_God, you should have heard him talking..." Shelby's surprisingly easy admittance launches Rachel into a tirade; finally comfortable to speak and not afraid to show it. "This is for him. He has to do something for him for a change, not for me or for you or for us."_

_ "This donation is for him too you know, Rachel." Shelby attempts to reason but her own words are empty and don't sound right coming out from even her own lips, forcing her to grimace as though she has just eaten something sour. _

_ "No it isn't. He is doing this for me, just like everybody else does everything around here!" There is an animosity behind Rachel's voice that matches the glare inside of her eyes. Shelby swallows heavily and forces herself to look away from her daughter._

_ "Rachel, this is all... it is all very generous and noble of you and you have to believe me when I tell you how proud I am of you for being so brave but honey, you need to be thinking about yourself right now. You cannot be the one that's worrying about Noah. That is my job and I trust him. I trust that he is capable of making these sorts of decisions on his own."_

_ "Do you really though?" Rachel calls Shelby's speech out for the utter bullshit that both know it is._

_ "This isn't a time to be selfless, Rachel." Her own words sound crazy, even to her. She cannot believe that she is standing here right now telling her daughter to stop thinking about others and to instead care only about herself. Briefly, Shelby wonders what kind of mother this makes her before she forces herself to toss the thought out of her head. "You need to focus on your own future and let everybody else worry about theirs."_

_ "So what are you saying? That it's every man for himself right now?" Rachel twists her words, but the more Shelby thinks about it, the more she realizes that they didn't need any twisting... Rachel has paraphrased her perfectly, Shelby only wishes that she hadn't._

_ "No," Shelby shoots back sharply, "I'm saying that you let me be the mother here. Trust me, I do enough worrying for the both of you. This family doesn't need anymore of that."_

_ "Sorry to say it mom, but you tend to be a little biased..." Shelby glares, her eyebrows raising towards Rachel as she attempts to decipher what it is that she is trying to say. _

_ "And what does that mean?" Shelby asks despite her better judgment telling her that she will be better off never knowing the answer to her own question. _

_ "I don't know, I guess... I guess that that's just being what a mom is..." Rachel rambles, shrugging as she turns her head from her mother as if struggling to piece together the meaning behind her own words. "I just know that you're always gonna put keeping me alive over everything else... Even if it costs you Noah."_

_ "Rachel..." Shelby breathes heavily in an attempt to get Rachel to stop carrying towards the direction that she is currently moving in. She fears beyond fears having to hear aloud an idea that she already knows deep inside of her head – that she has been ruthless in her battle to keep her daughter alive, even at the expense of the other. _

_ "What happens next, mom?" Rachel asks, relentless in her bid to get her mother to see reality for what it truly is. "I get a kidney transplant, maybe even go into remission and then what? Wait a couple more years for the exact same thing to happen all over again?"_

_ "It's not going to happen again." Shelby is adamant but even she knows that she cannot guarantee her own statement... She couldn't guarantee it the first time. She couldn't guarantee it the second time. She sure as hell cannot expect to successfully convince Rachel that a third happenstance is not an inevitability._

_ "It already did happen again, mom!" The rise inside of Rachel's voice, the pure exhaustion behind her tone has Shelby flinching as she finds herself suddenly forced to hold back her tears. "So don't say that it's not going to happen again. It's inside of me mom, and no amount of chemotherapy or replacement organs is going to stop that! So what happens next time when it's my heart that stops working? Or my liver or my brain? You can't just go around calling up Noah for spare parts once that happens."_

_ "Stop..."_

_ "No!" Rachel cuts her mother off. Never before has Shelby heard her daughter sound so certain about something before and that is what scares her the most. "I'm not spending the rest of my life inside of this hospital mom." _

_ "Rachel..." Shelby's eyes widen in her shock towards what she knows Rachel to be implying. Her features pale visibly, she has absolutely no response. Instead, she looks towards her daughter and finds herself unable to recognize the girl that stands before her. _

_ Rachel used to be a dreamer, she used to love, she used to fight for anything that could move her forwards, not bring her to a complete stop..._

_ "I'm ready for whatever life throws at me, mom... Even if you're not." Shelby swallows the bile rising from inside of her chest towards Rachel's indignation. She wishes that she can force Rachel to see things the way that she does. She wishes that she can get Rachel to understand that while unconditional motherhood allows for Shelby to love and respect each and every side of her daughter, there is an even greater obligation deep inside of her heart that tells her that she must do everything in her power to keep her child alive._

_She wishes that Rachel can one day know what it is like to know only one thing for certain – the impossibility of living without your children once you have them._

* * *

><p>The phone tries to stop Shelby the second that she rushes through her front door.<p>

She's made a bee line into the upstairs bathroom, her purse left without concern where she's deposited it inside of the center of the hallway.

Shelby hears the blaring of the land line the second that she manages to close the bathroom door behind her.

She embraces her moment or perceived peace, merely listening to the obnoxious wailing below her as she closes her eyes and presses her body tightly against the wooden door, forcing herself to take deep, steadying breaths before tensing once more in her commitment towards answering... With Rachel's condition so precarious combined with the reminder that she has not been inside of the hospital for hours now, Shelby knows that she cannot take the risk of not at least checking who is on the other side of that conversation.

"Hello?"

She has just ripped the bathroom door open once more when her call is intercepted, the very distinct voice of her son wafted up the stairs from the living room and into her senses.

The fact that he is not in school right now gives Shelby only more stress than what she is already experiencing although this is a feat she had previously believed impossible...

Rubbing at her throbbing temples, Shelby turns back inside of the bathroom. She is not ready to confront her son alongside the understanding that she first must concoct a valuable means on how to approach this situation if she wants either her or Noah to benefit from it.

Flipping the sink water on as hot as it will possibly go, Shelby allows it to run until steam billows back into her pores. She rummages through the overhead cabinets, her goal being one of the numerous scented washes that Rachel's superstition warranted her use for stress relief come competition time... Shelby used to bite her tongue against informing her daughter of the worthlessness of this practice but for right now, she is grateful.

The moment that Shelby opens the cabinet she is met with a waterfall of Noah's products, placed sloppily now toppling out like an avalanche, most landing inside of the full sink basin, dousing Shelby with scalding hot water.

She retracts instinctively but recovers quickly, grasping onto either side of the sink basin for self-sustaining support as she closes her eyes and breathes deeply, forcing herself to count to ten, collecting her emotions before turning to clean up her mess.

The sealed orange bottle catches Shelby's attention almost instantly as it bobs steadily up and down inside of the center of the pool that is currently collecting inside of the sink, slowly losing its buoyancy as its contents fill with water.

Shelby grabs at it curiously. Pill bottles are not exactly an uncommon occurrence inside of this house but still, Shelby cannot help but to be a little bit nosy.

Shelby's first surprise comes upon reading Noah's name across the top of the bottle, having previously assumed the medication to belong to Rachel... The further she delves into the label, the larger Shelby's eyes widen until they're roughly the size of flying saucers.

His Percocet prescription. The one that he had been prescribed following his concussion after States. The one that was supposed to be emptied weeks ago now. The one that was currently filled to the brim, cradled inside of her palm.

It isn't exactly a secret that Shelby has not been paying nearly as much attention to her son as she perhaps should be... Of course it has not been intentional with everything that has been going on with Rachel, Shelby could only pray that Noah is old enough to understand this much... But the longer that she internally battles with this argument inside of her head, the stupider it sounds even to her.

No child should ever have to outgrow the attention of his mother. Especially when he needed it now more than ever.

"_Noah isn't Noah anymore..."_

Shelby wonders whether or not Rachel knows about Noah's recent drug habits... Probably – she can't help but think – on most days, Rachel knows more when it comes to Noah than even she does. The only valid argument that Shelby can think of to support Rachel's silence regarding Noah's troubles is the obvious tense distance that has been placed between mother and son in these past couple of weeks... Rachel had probably already deemed herself to be the better option in regards to confronting Noah about this problem.

A piece of Shelby has to agree.

Shelby shakes her head away from this thought... She is jumping to conclusions much too quickly, making up scenarios deep inside of her head as she is so prone to doing these days.

First things first, avoidance is no longer an option. Shelby needed to confront her son and she needed to do it right now. Her time for strategically turning the other cheek when it came down to Noah's problems is over although Shelby knows that it should have been over before it had even started.

Shelby can only hope that Noah will be able to find it inside of him to forgive her.

"Noah!"

She marches down the stairs, begging herself to grasp control of her emotions as she rounds inside of the living room where Noah lays sprawled across the couch, flipping absentmindedly through the channels on the television although Shelby can tell by the glazed over look inside of his eyes that he isn't truly watching anything.

Shelby wonders whether or not if – in the state that her son is currently in – he would even so much as be able to find the TV in front of him if she asked.

She swallows heavily, begging for the anger to retreat back to the pit of her stomach where it came from. Exploding on Noah right now is not going to get either of them anywhere other than in a worse situation than what they are already in.

"Who was that on the phone?" Shelby starts slowly, building up to conversation in an effort to buy herself some time to figure out what it is that she is going to say to him next...

It takes him a long time to respond. Shelby can tell that he wants nothing more than to be invisible right now.

The mother can only reason that they have all been there once or twice before.

"A telemarketer..." Noah murmurs vaguely, clearly uninterested in talking... Shelby can tell that he is lying to her already.

"Do you wanna tell me why you aren't in school right now?" Shelby progresses to the core of the conversation, crossing her arms threateningly across her chest as if to warn Noah that this is not meant to be friendly chit chat implemented between mother and son.

"I have a study hall this period."

Another lie. Suddenly, Shelby finds herself struggling to remember when the last time that Noah told her the truth actually was.

She is having difficulty procuring an answer but swallows against the idea, her face tensing as her emotions begin to threaten to get the better of her.

"Noah, I need you to realize that I know how you're feeling right now."

"What?" Noah raises his eyebrows, finally turning to stare at his mother with a look of genuine confusion behind his eyes, glaring as if to silently ask why she has bothered to interrupt him if it was only for utter nonsense.

"The pain killers..." She finally tells him, and although Noah's face brightens with understanding, Shelby can tell by his expression alone that he could really care less about his mother's discovery.

"You went through my bathroom?" Noah places upon his face an expression of a shocked betrayal towards what little trust the still had left in each other, attempting to pin this all on her and redirect the guilt to shift it away from himself.

"First of all, it isn't you're bathroom..." She reminds him that despite the fact that Rachel was not here right now to fulfill her role as the second shareholder, this is still her house and therefore, still her rules to be followed. "Second, you still have a lot of explaining to do... What the hell are you still doing with these pills?"

"Whatever..."

"Whatever!?" Shelby repeats Noah's own sentiments, her volume steadily raising despite her previous mental pep talk reminding her to keep herself under control.

She marches around the couch, standing in front of him directly between Noah and the television screen, immediately snatching the remote control from his hands before he so much as had time to react, shutting the TV off perhaps a little bit more aggressively than was actually necessary.

"You were supposed to stop taking these weeks ago!" She waves the pill bottle accusingly in front of Noah's face, its contents shaking violently between them. "What the hell are you still doing with a full bottle?"

"I bought them." Noah speaks with a tone as though he is addressing a child, like this is the obvious answer to Shelby's question although in all fairness, the mother _had managed to deduce _this much... She just needed to hear Noah say it. She needed to confirm the fact that she had a much, much bigger problem on her hands than anything that she could have initially expected.

"Bought them from who?" She continues in her interrogation, unable to decipher whether or not his quickness in a willingness to tell her the truth is a good sign or a bad.

"From a kid at school..." With this answer, Shelby interprets it as bad... There is no way in hell that Noah would ever be this open with her unless he truly just did not care any longer about the consequences of his actions, nor how they related in regards to the rest of his family.

"What kid?"

"As if I'm telling you..." He sneers as he slowly maneuvers his muscular arms to pull himself back up from the couch... He is not steady on his feet, Shelby can tell this the second that he takes a slightly wobbling step to push past her.

"Noah, do not start with me I am not in the mood for this shit today!" Her warning is a stern signal that she is about to lose control.

"Of course you're not in the mood!" He pauses directly in front of her, his arms extended into a shrug that drips sarcasm with every motion, "You're never in the mood to deal with me. I'm just the problem child, remember?"

His words strike her in the realization that try as she may, Shelby is out of moves... Every word that he is saying is absolutely true and this kills her. She has pushed him to the side too much. She has allowed him to fall back too far to have a prayers chance of bringing him back now.

This is going to take a lot more than a brief pep talk and a friendly reminder that he will always be her son and she will always love him as thus no matter what...

And if Shelby had ever wanted to travel back to a time where a kiss and a Bandaid could make every one of her children's wounds better again this was it.

For the first time in years, in a time when Noah had been much younger than he is today, maybe not in terms of age but instead in terms of life, Shelby sees the shell of the angry boy that she had first noticed on the day that she had buried his father.

It is enough to shake her down to her very core.

All of the what if's, all of the uncertainties and the worst case scenarios continue to come to light directly in front of her oblivious face. It's dragging her down, draining her soul from each and every crevice...

In a time not so long ago, Shelby had been certain that she understood what it meant to be at the worst that things could possibly get but these days, she is starting to grow weary of constantly being proven wrong.

* * *

><p><em>Shelby Corcoran may very well be the only person on the face of this planet that despises Saturdays.<em>

_While she was still prominent on the Broadway stage, Saturdays had meant an extra showcase added to an already grueling schedule. These days, it meant struggling to situate her two pre-teenaged children early in the morning as they prepared to be left to their own devices as she ran off to judge yet another high school glee competition that she always regrets volunteering for, yet still always manages to get suckered into. _

_ Sneaking inside of her son's bedroom, Shelby doesn't even bother to knock. _

_ At fourteen, Noah has already proven himself to be the handful that Shelby had known he would become since the boy was a toddler... Waking Noah up in the morning – especially a Saturday morning – is an art that Shelby has still yet to master along with many, many other things. _

_ "Noah..." She prods at the back of his shoulders, broadening thick with puberty as well as a recent binge at his school's weight room, his age demanding for his appearance to be at the top of his priorities list._

_ His reaction is more or less everything that Shelby has expected. He releases a deep, low growl of disapproval that sounds like no noise capable of being made by a human being as he swats his mother's hand away. _

_ Other than that, Noah barely so much as flinches._

"_Noah, wake up." _

"_Ugh..." By some grace of God, Shelby actually manages to pull her son into a half awake state. Considering the fact that this is the most that she has been expecting, Shelby declares it an immediate victory. _

_ "Listen Noah, I have to go to Cincinnati today to judge a glee competition. I need you to pick Rachel up from her dance class at noon." Her request is firm, every syllable exaggerated to ensure that Noah hears it..._

_ It is the only effective means that she has learned to communicate with the son that the world sees as nothing more than a delinquent while Shelby it seems, is the only human being on this planet aware of his potential... _

_ Noah is just the type of boy that needs a little bit of extra attention._

_ Thick skinned and blanketed with the demeanor of a tough, leather like exterior, Shelby knows just how sensitive her son tends to be on the inside, how dramatic his personality may turn should these starkly different sides to him fall unbalanced._

_Like Shelby always said, Noah and Rachel were much more alike than anybody could ever see on account of the fact that their external and their internal personalities were flip flopped to the exact. _

"_Go away..." Noah smacks her away once more as he slowly transitions into an awake state that he simply does not want to be a part of right now... There is an insensitive tang of stale liquor around his breath. She swallows in her lack of patience but simply does not have the time to confront him for his increasingly poor habits right now. _

_ "Noah!" Shelby raises her voice, her top priority of the moment being to ensure that her son follows her simple instructions to ensure that her daughter is brought back home safely. "Listen, I already dropped her off but I can't pick her up... You have three hours. You have to remember to go get Rachel from dance class and walk her home."_

_ "Fine..." He grumbles, draping a pillow across his face in an effort to block out the offending sunlight that may further punctuate his already decimated sleep. "Now go away!" _

_ "Twelve o'clock, Noah!" She repeats, emphasizing the time to ensure that Noah has fully processed it. _

_ "Yeah, I got it..." He groans, and although deep down on the inside, Shelby does not believe that Noah is truly prepared for such a responsibility as remembering when to walk the five blocks down the street to pick up his eleven year old sister, she allows for her hurry to get out the door and on the road get the better of her, "Twelve o'clock..."_

_By the time her long, draining day is over it is already dark outside. _

_The competition is long over by now, Vocal Adrenaline having once more received the unanimous landslide of a victory that everybody had expected, but being a judge, Shelby had been held back with details and sorted rules that traveled far beyond after every single audience member and even glee club has already left. _

_ She is exhausted as she walks through the front door of her house, drained from a long day of fighting with a group of amateurs that had absolutely no business judging a group of singing kids when they themselves could barely even tell the difference between a soprano and a baritone...At first she doesn't even notice how dark the house is, or how quiet..._

_Too quiet._

"_Noah!" Shelby calls curiously up the stairs, eyebrows raised with confusion, "Rachel!" Shelby's ears flex for the common response – her son's uninterested growl as compared to her daughter, delighted to have her home again – but it never comes. "Is anybody home?" _

_ She is met with a silence that is so cold that it sends a shiver up the length of her spine. Shelby's maternal instinct is pounding furiously inside of her chest, that painful ache of worry spreading through to her limbs with every beat._

_ "Noah! Rachel!" Shelby calls for them once more and as much as she is expecting the strikingly similar results, it does not make them hurt any less._

_There is a hint of desperation behind her voice as Shelby begins to barrel her way through the house, flipping on lights, checking for her children in each and every corner of the house as though they are simply playing some crazed version of hide-n-seek with her..._

_ By the time she makes her fifth lap around her house with no results, her eyes are filled with tears that fog her brain from the concept of rational thought... Rushing to the phone, Shelby is half on her way to calling __911 to report her children missing..._

_ It isn't entirely inconceivable that Noah has snuck out of the house to attend a party, drink himself into oblivion, do whatever else that he has taken to recently that Shelby is not entirely certain she wants to know about... No, it is not his absence that has struck Shelby so harshly but Rachel's... _

_ Her daughter has never broken a single rule in her entire life. She has never done anything without first seeking the permission of her mother... This is much too unlike Rachel for Shelby to be completely comfortable..._

_The blinking red light of the answering machine besides the telephone pulls her into rationality once more. _

_It seems to ring forever, Shelby tapping her fingertips against the granite counter top as she silently begs to hear the automated voice of either Rachel or Noah assuring her that they were okay..._

_ "Hi Mrs. Corcoran, this is Lauren Devine, Rachel's dance instructor..." Shelby sighs in an unruly groan of disappointment, so steep that she cannot even comprehend the idea of just how unusual it is that Rachel's dance teacher has placed a call to her house. "It's about 1:00 on Saturday afternoon, I'm just calling to ask if you have made any arrangements for Rachel to be picked up from her class today... Nobody has come for her yet and class ended at noon today..." _

_ Her eyes widen with an understanding that she knows she should have concluded from the get go._

_Noah forgot to pick up Rachel. _

"_Mrs. Corcoran, this is Lauren Devine again..." The beep indicates the beginnings of a second message from the instructor whose patience sounds to be on its final straw... Shelby buries her face inside of her hand, mortified that this woman probably now thinks her to be some degenerate mother who can't even come out of the woodwork to pick up her own child. "I hope that everything is alright. It's about 1:45 on Saturday afternoon and nobody has come to pick up Rachel still... I contacted the emergency number that you listed on Rachel's paperwork, your mother Crystal Berry and she came to get Rachel about five minutes ago. Please call me back when you get this message."_

_ Shelby's eyes glance subconsciously upwards towards the clock dangling on the wall above the sink... It was just after eight o'clock at night which would mean that Rachel has been under the devices of her grandparents for hours now while Noah remained nowhere in sight._

_ Her fingers are trembling as she hangs up the phone, immediately pounding another series of familiar numbers into the dial pad, listening as the tone rings vibrantly inside of her ear once, twice, three times..._

"_Yo..."_

"_Noah!" Shelby ignores her son's less than proper greeting, it being the least of her worries as she hisses venomously in her choosing to cut straight to the point. "Where the hell are you?"_

_ "Out..." Noah groans inwardly, disappointment laced inside of his voice towards the idea that he should have checked to see who it was that was calling him before he'd chosen to answer the phone to the upset wrath of his mother. _

_ "You were supposed to pick up your sister from dance this afternoon!" The longer she talks, the louder she gets, no longer capable of suppressing her fury now that the worry was slowly beginning to taper off into residual anger. _

_ "Shit, I forgot..." Noah mutters his statement regarding his breech of responsibility uninterested while meanwhile, on the other side of the line, Shelby is halfway to a nervous breakdown as she half expects child protective service to come knocking down her front door for forgetting her daughter and turning her back on her son's delinquencies all in one day._

_ "You forgot?" She repeats harshly, emphasizing his own words in an effort to attempt to get him to recognize how utterly ridiculous they sounded in terms of a valid excuse. _

_ "Yeah, I forgot, crucify me why don't you, jeez..." He spews a sarcastic retort, but Shelby can hear him sigh heavily from over the phone as he reconsiders his interest. "Is she okay?"_

_Well at least he cares about that much..._

"_She's fine," Shelby informs him although the annoyance behind her voice is enough to indicate that simply inquiring about his sister after he'd all but abandoned her is not going to make her any less upset with him, "She's at your grandparent's house. You need to come home right now, Noah."_

_ "But it's Saturday!" His worry for his sister tapers off, immediately replaced by the worry for his social life becoming prematurely obstructed by his pissed off mother. "My curfew isn't until ten."_

_ "You're curfew is whenever I say it is." Shelby states authoritatively, choosing not to remind Noah of the fact that he rarely follows the instructions of Shelby's designated curfew anyway, "Come home, Noah. Now!" _

_ "All of this because I forgot to pick up Rachel from some stupid dance class?" He groans with a dramatic mannerism that makes him sound exactly like his sister..._

_ "Yes Noah, all of this because you forgot to pick up your eleven year old sister from her stupid dance class..." Shelby confirms, choosing not to go into the details regarding the fact that this is also about much, much more than that – the habit of coming home drunk, of sneaking out late into the night, of fighting at school, of being expelled in the first place..._

_It's too much, Shelby knows this, but she has become a professional at holding off what she ought to say until the very last minute, after it has already snowballed into something much too large for any of them to take a hold of anymore._

"_She's your daughter, Noah states the obvious, "You're the one that's supposed to be taking care of her, not me." _

_ "Yes, and you are my son which means that you damn well better listen to me when I tell you that if you are not home in ten minutes, you will not be leaving this house again for a very, very long time." _

_ "Whatever..." He snorts towards a threat that the both of them know is empty. She can ground him until he is eighteen, go as far as to put bars on the windows and feed him twice a day through a little meal flap in his bedroom door, he will still find a way out... He always does._

"_It takes two people to make a brother Noah." Shelby breathes the reminder after an extended moment of silence. "Don't forget that." _

* * *

><p>"Noah please, I cannot go down this road with you again!" There is a hint of desperation behind her voice as Shelby begins to practically beg him to pull himself together, trying her luck in the reminder of just how hard he's worked to get here, that to falter now would be nothing short of <em>fatal<em>, "I will not do this again. Not now."

The eye roll that he responds with is so dramatic that Shelby can practically hear the motion as they circulate around inside of their sockets from all the way across the room. Noah broadens his shoulders in a domineering fashion as he makes his dedication towards a clean escape noticeable...

But he may be much larger than Shelby, but the mother has the determination of experience on her side. She stops him in his tracks with a firm squaring of her shoulder, instantly reminding Noah that he is the son and her, the mother...

Shelby boxes him into a corner with a surprising ease.

"You are blowing your life away, Noah!" She screams in her desperate last resort to force her son to see reason. "How can you run around claiming that you want nothing more than to be a kidney donor for Rachel and then turn around and do something like this? You do realize that nobody will ever take a kidney from a kid that is so strung out on drugs all the time that he doesn't even know who he is anymore, right?"

"Wake up, mom!" Noah shouts right back to her, standing on his tip toes to appear taller as he thrusts himself so closely into her face that Shelby can feel the rush of his warm breath against her skin. "You are the one that's living in a fantasy land over here! You're the one that still believes that everything is going to go as planned, that this kidney donation is still going to actually happen! Rachel doesn't want it! She doesn't want to do this anymore, and I get that you don't want to see things that way, really I do but eventually you're not gonna have much of a choice."

"Don't say that..." Shelby's subconscious recognizes her son's painful truth for what it is while her desperate desire for it not to be keeps her blissfully subdued, "I have a plan Noah. I'm talking with Rachel and I give you my word that she will come to her senses soon enough."

"Yeah well your word hasn't exactly been worth that much these days, has it?" Shelby sighs heavily, her eyes closing instinctively for patience. This is not a road that she wants to go down with her son today, especially considering how badly their _exact _same conversation had ended just yesterday.

"I promise you Noah, if you keep this up than one day you _will _be sorry." Shelby detracts purposefully from Noah's initial statement, glaring at him with a stern expression behind her eyes, begging him to believe her although she knows full well that he probably won't.

"Sorry for what?" He sneers back, but Shelby can tell that he knows exactly what she means – sorry for ruining what may very well be the last opportunity that he has to be with his sister, to remind her of just how much he loves her, how much she changed him for the better. "I'm not a little kid anymore, I'm not an idiot... I'm just the only one of us that actually realizes what this thing with Rachel is all about... She doesn't want to be saved."

He emphasizes every syllable of his final sentence, watching satisfied as Shelby visibly blanches, staggering slightly as she loses that last remaining flicker of a fight behind her eyes in Noah's words, in the reminder of everything that Rachel had told her only yesterday...

"_I'm not spending the rest of my life inside of this hospital, mom."_

She didn't believe it. As a mother of a chronically ill child, Shelby knows that she _can't_ believe it... No. This is _not_ about Rachel choosing death over a constant struggle that only ends in circles. This is about her fighting for a brother that is clearly not capable of fighting for himself at the moment. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Shelby is adamant in her refusal to believe that any of Rachel's decision has stemmed from the possibility that her daughter – a girl with so much potential, such a bright future – was ready to just _give up_... No. If she can get Noah to turn himself around, she can get Rachel to turn herself around as well. It is a feat that deep down, Shelby knows will be easier said than done and with the limited amount of time that they have to spare, she has to move and she has to move quickly.

"Cool it with the drugs." Shelby continues in her blatant habit of ignoring the more obvious truths behind her son's words, eyeing him seriously as she jabs a finger directly into his chest as though there was ever any doubt of who it is that she is speaking to in the first place.

"Or what?"

What little patience that Shelby does have left with her son is obliterated with the final, cheeky comment that ultimately puts her over the edge.

"I am already fighting hard enough to keep from putting one of my kids in the ground right now." Shelby hisses through clenched teeth. Even Noah looks surprised by her abrupt bluntness. The mere reminder is enough to spark the ever-lingering threat of tears against the backs of her ears but Shelby knows that they cannot fall right now. It is simply not an option. "I will be damned if I have to do the same thing with you, Noah."

"Yeah well, maybe you being alone will be for the best."

His words are meant to hurt. His tone alone is enough to allow Shelby to know just how truly he'd meant every last ill-intended syllable inflicted upon her...

Her reaction is immediate. She doesn't even notice as her hand retracts seemingly on its own accord. Her next conscious memory is that of her open palm connecting hard with the side of her son's face, leaving a distinct, five-fingered mark of shame imprinted clear across his left cheek.

Noah's head recoils slightly in response to the blow but beyond that he makes no immediate reaction towards his mother's actions. Instead, both stare blankly at one another, silenced by their shock towards just how quickly that conversation had escalated and just what it had escalated into...

Never once had Shelby so much as considered hitting either of her children.

She had always been such a strong advocate against _any_ sort of violence displayed towards them. Hell, she hadn't even spanked them when they misbehaved as children...

Shelby can still remember the distinct feeling of terror that had overcome her when Noah was six years old, sitting with his parents in the waiting room of Lima Memorial Hospital as they waiting for a definitive diagnosis on the night that Rachel had developed the bout of meningitis that had almost killed her... He was a child back then, saying things that – in his frustration – he couldn't know were as hurtful as they were.

In a blatant display of an utter loss of control, Hiram had snapped that evening and had struck their son.

Shelby had been so angry with her husband then. She remembers distinctly being terrified of him for a long time after that, the imprint of the rage that had overcome his features – normally so soft – in that moment permanently stamped across her exhausted, over-worked brain...

But Noah is not a child anymore.

It is a fact that he has been fighting tooth and nail for Shelby to see ever since Rachel had been diagnosed in October.

This time, Noah understands what it means to be spiteful, to speak under the influence of pure hate. He understands the implications of his words, his actions... They have all already been to hell and back more than once before – there is no excuse for him not to.

It becomes quickly obvious that before, Shelby simply just hadn't understood how it was that a parent could ever actually come to hit their child.

But now that she does, Shelby has never regretted anything more in her entire life.

* * *

><p>By the time Shelby is driving safely towards the hospital she is in tears.<p>

When she had first become a parent, right after Noah had been born in all of his glory, Shelby used to spend countless sleepless nights staring upwards towards her darkened ceiling imagining all of the means by which her children could come to be harmed.

Before Rachel had gotten sick everything had been so superficial. It was the fear of choking on the loose piece of a toy, choosing to be too trustworthy of a dangerous stranger...

And then Noah and Rachel had only grown older, and with their steady morph into adulthood, Shelby's fear only grew deeper, scarier than even she could imagine.

Now it is inevitable relapse, the implications of cancer cells floating beneath Rachel's skin, invisible to the naked eye. Now it is drugs sold carelessly behind the bleachers of Noah's high school.

She'd spent the entirety of her kids' lifetime composing a list of all of the means by which harm could fall upon her children but Shelby has found that she can count forever, something new will _always_ come...

Lately it is starting to become grossly apparent to Shelby that right now, Rachel and Noah's biggest problem is in fact her.

She wonders when the exact moment that she gave up on her son actually was. There are far too many instances to pinpoint a single, specific one...

When he had acted out as a child, Shelby had justified her sole focus on Rachel with the notion that it was her daughter's life that was on the line here, not her son's... The same argument no longer applies. Now, it is _both _of their lives that is on the line.

Parking her car, Shelby knows better than to immediately get out of it.

She needs to calm herself down first, even if it is forced. The last thing that Rachel needs right now is to see her mother in the midst of a breakdown that would only lead to inevitable questions and answers that Shelby is not yet willing to give.

It would lead only to a downward spiral that would enforce Rachel's sole desire to worry strictly for her brother, her insane notion that by _not_ committing to this transplant, she will somehow be freeing him when the only reality that Shelby can see in a world without Rachel is one that she does not even want to imagine... that she _can't_ imagine.

Wiping the tears from the undersides of her eyes, Shelby forces back those still threatening to fall... She can only hope that Rachel will not notice her blotchy cheeks, the red-rimmed eyes so willing to traitorously give away the notion that she had been crying...

By the time she arrives inside of Rachel's ward, Shelby has projected the faux sense of confidence that she is so well known for... Her head is held up high, her chest projected slightly outwards as she struts forwards without faltering once.

"Shelby!"

She is steps away from being inside of Rachel's room and she is already being called away... With a yearning behind her eyes, Shelby eyes her daughter briefly through the open doorway... A nurse hovers above her, situating Rachel through her latest chemotherapy treatment with a precision driven by expertise.

Shelby can't help but to tell that Rachel is looking worse for the wear today, a common theme that the mother has been noticing a lot lately...

Not even Shelby can deny that this, all of this is both physically and emotionally starting to take its toll on her young daughter...

It is starting to take its toll on all of them.

Reluctantly, Shelby turns away, her eyes instead latching upon the familiar doctor as he marches steadily down the hallway towards her.

She isn't looking forward to a damn thing that he has to say to her. A man of such comfort and support, Dr. McCarthy's most latest escapades have brought nothing beyond worse and worse news. He is not placed particularly high up on Shelby's favorites list these days.

"I'm glad I caught you. Do you think that I can speak with you for a minute before you get settled down?" Sighing heavily in an indication of her disappointment, Shelby agrees through an unenthusiastic nod. She has already been away from Rachel for so long that a brief minute could equate into years in her book.

If it were an option to sit with Rachel in order to avoid the obvious – that Rachel is only getting worse – Shelby would take that in a heartbeat.

"First of all, how are you holding up?"

Shelby _wants_ to tell him that compared to Rachel's diminishing health and Noah's binge into juvenile delinquency, that she personally is doing just fine, but at the last second, she thinks better of this decision and seals her mouth firmly shut.

"I'm fine." Even she hiccups on her own blatant lie so that she is not particularly surprised when Dr. McCarthy's eyes narrow inwards with a clear disbelief that practically forces the truth out from beyond her throat. "This is just... it's hard is all."

"I know it is..." He nods towards her genuinely, not just in that expression of pure sympathy that Shelby is so used to amongst friends and strangers, the one that he _must_ commit to because he has no idea what else to say to her... Dr. McCarthy is the fourth piece to their small family by now and Shelby is certain that no matter how many children have been lost under his watch, it never gets any easier. "Listen Shelby I hate to be the bearer of even more bad news but I have to tell you that this thing with Rachel not wanting to accept her brother's kidney donation is for real and unless we can convince her to change her mind and to do it soon, we are going to have another very, very serious problem on out hands and we are going to have it within the next couple of days."

"Can't... can't we just do the surgery anyway?" Shelby's eyes widen with desperation as she begins subconsciously chewing at her fingernails, trying to ease her ever-growing nerves, "We can... we can force her to do it can't we? Noah is a willing donor and Rachel is a minor. Shouldn't I be having the final say as to what happens to her?"

"No," The doctor shakes his head against the unfortunate truth that Shelby's power as parent and legal guardian can only carry her so far in this particular scenario, "Rachel is old enough and in a lucid enough state of mind to make her opinion count. No surgeon in their right mind is going to be willing to perform a kidney transplant on a fifteen year old girl in such a fragile condition as Rachel without her consent."

"Why not?" Shelby grows irrationally heated in her frustration, "Don't they understand that Rachel is much too young to know what's good for her? I am her mother! It is _my_ job to make these sorts of decisions for her, not hers!"

"I'm sorry, Shelby... That much is out of my hands entirely..." He shakes his head, able to offer her nothing more beyond his deepest of sympathy as the mother before him slowly begins to unravel, "But listen, there is a little bit of good news."

"What is it?" Shelby perks desperately. At this point she is willing to take any smidgeon of positivity that she can get.

"I had the pleasure of meeting a handful of your daughter's friends today." Shelby raises a sharp eyebrow, genuinely confused, "They seemed to have been lead by a young girl... Quinn Fabray I believe her name was."

"You met Quinn?" Shelby sputters in the unexpected nature of the doctor's revelation, shrinking slightly in her defiance towards physically dragging Rachel onto the operating table herself as she struggles to assess whether or not this visit from the fiery blonde should be perceived as a good thing or a bad.

"Oh yes," The doctor nods in his confirmation through a short smile, "She is a fire cracker, that's for sure."

"That's one way to put it..." Shelby nods in her agreement, scratching at the back of her head as she struggles to piece together the distant answers. "What did Quinn want?"

"To try and convince us to look at things a little bit differently in terms of this kidney donation..." Shelby cocks her head in clear confusion. The more that Dr. McCarthy talks, the more lost Shelby finds herself. "To try and focus our attention less on trying to convince Rachel to take Noah's kidney and more on trying to find another one instead."

"Wait... I'm sorry, I don't understand." Shelby stutters through his vague explanation as he makes it sound as though he has access to a magic box of spare parts stored in the back room that they might be able to dig through until they manage to find a kidney that will match Rachel's... Shelby can only wish that things could be this easy. "I thought you said that finding a random donor from the registry can take years."

"I did, and it can... But in this particular situation, the donor will not be random." He smiles softly as Shelby's face slowly begins to brighten with a gradual understanding. "We had about five people in the clinic this morning all being tested as potential kidney donors for Rachel."

"W-who?" Shelby stammers in her astonishment towards the idea that there were people in this world that cared for her daughter enough to be so willing to give her one of their body parts.

"They mentioned something about a glee club..." He explains, "Quinn said that there would have been more candidates but the majority of the club is under eighteen and some members had a harder time getting parental consent than others... Quinn included."

Shelby nods with an absentmindedness fueled by her overwhelmed emotions. She could have easily guessed for herself that Russel and Judy Fabray would never give their daughter permission to so much as consider giving a kidney to 'that Jewish girl with the secular family and a gay father that had turned to suicide' from down the block... She vaguely wonders whether or not they know of her daughter's elaborate scheme.

Probably not.

"Have any of the results gotten back yet?" Shelby doesn't mean to downplay her level of utmost gratitude towards everything that Quinn and the rest of the glee club are doing for Rachel, it's just that she doesn't exactly have the time to pause and linger.

"Not yet."

"And how do you feel about the odds?" Shelby forces herself to ask the question despite her subconscious begging her not to for fear of the answer and what it's consequences may be.

"It's a good start but Shelby, I don't want you to get your hopes up too high... The pool isn't _that_ large." He shakes his head softly. He's trying desperately not to raise Shelby's hopes too high but the bar has already been set and there is no turning back now. "And AB- isn't exactly the world's most common blood type."

"Okay..." Shelby forces herself to nod through a steadying breath. She would like to believe that the odds are not _that_ bad, but she had stopped relying on figures ever since the odds proved to not ever play out in any of their favors. "Okay, you keep working on that and I'll keep working on trying to get Rachel to go with the original plan just in case..."

"Deal." The doctor claps his hands together as though he and Shelby had just agreed upon the deciding play of the championship football game. "Now go. I've kept you from Rachel for long enough."

"Thank you..." Shelby deflates gratefully but there is no time to pause. Just beyond the border of the hallway, deep inside of Rachel's room is a reality that has her falling painfully morose all over again – her frail daughter barely clinging onto life from inside of a hospital bed, leaving even Shelby struggling to clutch onto this blanket of denial that has thus far been powering her through this journey.

The possibilities hit Shelby like a freight train.

Her daughter is not invincible. Overcoming the odds the first time meant absolutely nothing in terms of her second time around. Karma is all but a made up illusion designed to make people who can't possibly know any better feel good about their lives.

Frankly, if there _was_ actually a God floating around up there inside of this vast landscape called the universe, Shelby is certain that she wouldn't be sitting here right now desperately wondering whether or not her daughter would survive another day, or if her deteriorating brother or else a group of kids that Rachel had called strangers only months before would be able to save her when not even her own mother could.

Shelby wipes her eyes before she goes inside to see Rachel, for once hoping that the girl is not lucid enough in this moment to notice just how red that they have since become.

She is eternally grateful to find Rachel to be fast asleep, although Shelby knows that she should have been expecting this. It is all that Rachel ever seems to do these days – _sleep_.

Shelby takes advantage of the opportunity to be alone with her daughter knowing full well that inside of a place like this, these chances are rare.

Completely thorough in her assurance of dry eyes, Shelby wipes at her damp cheeks one last time before she leans forward over Rachel's bedside, reaching down to rub a soft hand across the top of her daughter's bare head before she is stopped mid-motion in response to a striking revelation...

Her palm lingers against the very top of her daughter's forehead - extended in the absence of the thick, brown hair that she had inherited from her mother – eyes widening fearfully as she reaches downward with her spare hand to jab at the nurse call button without hesitation.

"Can I help you?" The voice rings clear from the small speakers against Rachel's bed rails, linking Shelby to the nursing station right down the hall although still much too far away for Shelby's liking in this moment.

"Rachel is running a fever..." Shelby's response is brash and straightforward. She doesn't have time for polite introductions at the moment. The heat that is radiating off of her daughter's skin and back onto her own is enough of an excuse for Shelby to be demanding hastiness.

"I'll send a nurse right in."

"Thank you..." Shelby stammers, stepping reluctantly away from her post as she begins the grueling wait for a nurse that experience reminds Shelby, can take hours.

All of her previous plans surrounding her visit to the hospital today are shattered, thrown quickly away in her concern. Thoughts of kidneys and glee clubs and football are replaced with Shelby's need for immediate action as she rushes inside of the small, private bathroom in the corner of Rachel's room, soaking a washcloth in cool water before returning to her daughter's ailing bedside.

She is just draping the damp material across Rachel's forehead when she is greeted by a nurse.

"Mrs. Corcoran?"

"Rachel is running a fever..." Shelby cuts straight to the point, choosing not to dally as she begins to blot at Rachel's sweat beaded forehead.

"We know," The woman nods sympathetically but at the same time all-knowingly... Shelby's heart freezes inside of her veins in the acknowledgment towards just how little any of them can do about this fact. "Her temperature broke a hundred just a couple of minutes ago. We already drew some blood and started her on a broad spectrum antibiotic. Her nephrologist was paged, but he's in surgery right now so..."

"Did you page Dr. McCarthy as well?" Shelby is blunt and specific, speaking from the point of view of an experienced parent who is clearly under the impression that she knows more about what is best for her daughter than the girl's own nurse does.

"No..." The young nurse hesitates in the reminder that the girl laying before them is a living human experiment, that when one thing goes wrong there is a plethora of people to be called in to evaluate the situation from all possible angles, "Only Dr. Macguire..."

"Page her oncologist." Shelby demands, her tone harsh at first before she retracts the projection of her anger upon this unfortunate woman standing before her, shrinking slightly in her regret, "Please..." She adds the final note as an extension of good nature but she can't be sure of its effectiveness – the nurse turns sharply, her motions hurried as she scurries out of the room and away from the crazy woman that stands before her.

"Rachel..." Shelby doesn't linger on the fortune of the frazzled nurse, instead turning towards her ailing daughter, hovering above her prone form as she nudges at her shoulder gently with the intentions of rousing her, "Rachel honey it's mom... Come on Rach, I need you to wake up for me."

A low, lingering groan of protest emerges from the back of Rachel's throat as she squeezes her eyes closed even more firmly and makes a weak attempt to roll away from her mother's intrusion. No matter how many days she has spent inside of the hospital or how many times she has been awoken in order to be poked and prodded and analyzed, it is a feat that she never seems to get used to.

"That's it Rachel..." Shelby is encouraging, rewarding Rachel's effort to pull herself out of sleep even if it is being done reluctantly. "Come on sweetheart, I know that it hurts but I need to see those eyes of yours right now."

"Mom?" Rachel finally grumbles, rubbing at her eyes with clenched fists as they open up into tiny slits, questioning the entity that stands before her as if there was ever any doubt as to who it was.

"Yeah Rachel, I'm right here..." Shelby confirms quietly, "Listen honey, I know that you're tired but I need you to stay awake for a little while and talk to me if you can..."

Shelby grasps at Rachel's hand, her thumb subconsciously stroking the taut skin as she attempts to be as comforting as possible in preparation for the difficult conversation that Shelby knows she has put off for much too long... There is no more time to wait. They have been waiting for their entire lives, the time to do so is over. If she doesn't do something and do it soon, Shelby knows that her opportunity is going to be lost – not even Shelby can deny this much any longer.

"Is... is Noah with you?" Rachel detracts from the conversation before it even begins, her eyes closing once more as she speaks through deep, concentrated breaths that shudder painfully against her chest with every inhale, struggling with a task as seemingly menial as speaking and breathing at the same time.

"No," Shelby shakes her head sadly, clearly upset by even her own words as she interprets Rachel's question as a measure of just how difficult it will be to change her daughter's ever-stubborn mind regarding this transplant... Here she is, laying on her death bed and still, she is committing herself to nothing more beyond her own brother. "Noah isn't coming in today... He... he woke up with a bad cold. He doesn't want you catching anything that might make you sick right now."

Shelby lies for her son through her teeth but still, she can tell that Rachel is not fooled for a second, even in her current state.

"I'm worried about him mom..." Shelby's face contorts into utmost concern. As much as her daughter's worry towards her brother's well-being warms her heart at the same time she is forced to bite her tongue against reminding Rachel that the only person that she should be worrying about is herself right now... Briefly, Shelby wonders what kind of mother this makes her before she forces the thought from her head.

"Me too honey..." Shelby admits airily, speaking through a heavy sigh – while she perceives her admittance towards her worry for _both _of her children as at least some progress, she still knows full well that she has absolutely no idea what she is going to do about either predicament with time running out faster than she can count.

"You need... you need to tell him that he _has_ to go to school... play football..." Rachel's voice is dreamy. She sounds as though she is speaking from light years away as she continues on her crusade to spare her brother's future.

"Rachel..." Shelby warns as she picks up on her daughter's increasing distance, her heart pounding with an increasing intensity as she watches Rachel squirm uncomfortably, her face scrunching in pain... With every second that passes she seems to only get paler... Shelby can't tell whether or not this is actually happening or if it is simply an illusion that she is making up entirely.

"It saved him once," She doesn't listen. Shelby wonders whether or not Rachel has even heard her, "It can do it again."

"Rachel!" Shelby repeats just a little bit louder, all but ignoring her daughter's soliloquy as the girl begins to fidget before her.

"I'm... I'm okay." Rachel responds to her mother's concern but her muscles react traitorously against her own words as they tense and ramp against a rush of pain that not even a heavy dose of morphine can block.

"No you're not." Shelby produces the truth that Rachel cannot, desperately scanning her daughter's face for answers as she rests her palm against Rachel's forehead once more, lingering in her attempts to convince herself that it is all in her head that the girl feels even warmer than she did only moments before.

Rachel's response to her mother's touch is an involuntary confirmation in its own right.

A sharp, high pitched gasp of pain slips from beyond her pale, cracked lips as she tenses briefly before falling completely limp before her...

Out of the corner of her eye, a rush of color captures Shelby's attention, her head turning just in time to watch as a rush of red floods inside of the urine bag attached to the end of Rachel's bed, staining its contents with a wave of blood that has Shelby freezing.

The only sound that she can hear is her own heart pounding inside of her ears. For a brief second, Shelby is frozen in her fear, snapped from her daze only by her daughter snapping back to life – violent, frantic jerks that live her limbs flailing as her eyes roll into the back of her head until only the whites are showing.

"Help!"

She receives the kick start that she needs, releasing the desperate plea from beyond lips shivering with fear. Her feet follow her words. Shelby rushes towards the open doorway of Rachel's room, not really caring whose attention she captures as long as it is somebody that can help her - "I need help in here! Please!"

The desperation inside of her voice does not go unnoticed. All around her, heads pop up in curiosity towards the crazy lady that is screaming down the length of the crowded hallway – bystanders looking angrily towards the source of their disruption of peace and experienced nurses that know all too well what it means when a frantic mother comes rushing to them pleading for assistance.

Shelby shouts her head off only briefly. The second she notices the large group rushing towards her at full sprint, she becomes satisfied that her efforts have worked well enough that she feels comfortable turning back towards Rachel, committed to doing whatever she can for her, pained in the understanding that she _can _do only very little.

She has been turned for only seconds – a full minute tops – but when does flip back towards Rachel, her situation – if possible – seems only more dire than before...

Rachel is shuddering so violently that she bounces like a pinball off of the guardrails of her bed as if in a bid to pitch herself straight off and onto the floor. Her arms are locked against her sides, legs held together as if by superglue. Her body is stiff as a board as it flails from side to side, blood dripping from the numerous port access sites as she rips tubes and needles from beneath her skin in her jerking motions. Her back arches into a perfect semi-circle, veins popping from her neck as a high pitched, wailing cry escapes from beyond clenched teeth, serving as a painful reminder for Shelby that even in her unconscious, the amount of pain that her daughter is currently in is unbearable.

The motions are endless, each feeling like a punch to the gut. Shelby briefly wonders whether or not they will ever stop as strangers begin to approach her, pushing her to the side, demanding that she give _her_ child to _them _without hesitation because they know what Rachel needs much more than she does.

Shelby moves into the hallway with little resistance. Her body feels like Jell-O, she is certain that she wouldn't be able to put up a fight even if she tried.

Craning her neck for a constant view of the interior of Rachel's room, she is pushed relentlessly down the length of the hallway, the image of her daughter growing smaller and smaller with distance until the crowd or doctors and nurses consumes her, blocking her view entirely.

Shelby moves robotically. She is being lead by a nurse but still, her feet carry her automatically towards the corner waiting room, experience guiding her motions until finally, her exhausted body finds solace, knees collapsing in on themselves into a small chair in the far side of the room.

Shelby sinks immediately. Her backside finds the support of the cushioned chair behind her and all at once, it as if it pushes the triggers that she needs in order to lose control completely...

Her body begins to tremble violently as she buries her face inside of her hands and sobs – a wave of grief that has been building inside of her chest for so long that when it finally is released in an explosion of fury, she can barely breathe.

Sharp, painful hiccups release from beyond the back of her throat as her mind swirls in a whirlwind of stimulation that comes together in prayer as she begins to wonder to whoever may listen whether or not she has already used up the miracle that she needs to save her children.

* * *

><p><strong>Donna14<strong>** – Very much appreciated. Thank you so much!**

**Clara Meliza**** – Thank you for your thoughts and prayers and continuous support! It means a lot to know how many people are cheering us on :)**

**Just Me**** – Thanks for all the love! I'm glad you fared okay. I've been holed up in Bergen County these past few days and other than just getting power back on Monday afternoon things haven't been too bad. I love your home state too :) Clean up is going alright. We just had flood waters up to the ceiling and a tree went through the roof of my bedroom but all of us got out safe which is really the important thing. And just so I don't completely ignore your review from the last chapter I added that little flashback with Rachel and Shelby for you :) It's safe to say that right now Shelby is in full fledged denial mode but as Rachel's condition gets worse and worse things will start to get a little bit more dire. All three Corcorans are literally on complete opposite pages in regards to this transplant and the tricky part is going to be to piece themselves together in order to find a productive solution. I'm glad you're liking Quinn too. I'm not gonna lie, I was never a huge fan and then almost out of nowhere I kind of fell in love with her character which is why I'm trying to use her more and more. And once again, THANK YOU! for all of the love. It means the ****world. **

**Ritagarcia45**** – Thanks so much! All the support means so much. **

**Vballinallday**** – Thanks so much for the well wishes! Hope you guys made it through okay :)**

**Baygirl123**** – Never! I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul :)**

**Sillystarshine**** – Thank you for the love and prayers! They go a long way and mean more than you know!**

**Seacat03**** – Thank you for the kind words and the review! Quinn's plan is starting to come to light but there's still a little more to it. Also, Shelby will have her own way of getting back to seeing the true Noah but they still have to dig through a couple of cracks first. It will come though I promise! Thanks again for everything.**


	46. Shelby Corcoran – January 2012 (Part II)

**Hello all! So I switched things up a bit this time around. Originally, I planned to structure things like I've been doing and make this chapter based in the past but last minute I decided to combine the past and present chapters into one and ended up just splitting it into three different parts. I was gonna put it all together but it ended up being somewhere along the lines of 20,000 words or something crazy so I decided against it. **

**Good news is the next chapters actually almost done and should be up by Sunday or Monday. Bad news is that after that, there are only two chapters left and an epilogue :(**

**Thanks to everybody that is still sticking with me! I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Shelby Corcoran – <strong>January 2012  
><em>(Part II)<em>

* * *

><p><em>Today, Rachel smiles for the first time in a month.<em>

_It is a monumental occasion that Shelby sticks inside of the mental log of events that she stores deep within the back of her mind, to be pulled out only to keep her pressing forward on the days that she doesn't think she can._

_ It has been a week since Rachel's final chemotherapy session. It has been four days since Rachel's last radiation treatment. _

_ It is an ending that Shelby can only hope will be marked in its permanence. She continues to swallow against the fear of disbelief that this is all too good to be true while meanwhile, Rachel is nothing short of exuberant. _

_ Shelby still has not been able to walk away from her daughter long enough to stop expecting a doctor to tell her that this has all been some unfortunate mistake, that Rachel's latest blood samples have indicated signs of inevitable relapse before remission has so much as had an opportunity to truly begin..._

_ She has been coached enough to understand what will happen should everything go to plan... Rachel will have received the hearty donation of her brother's own healthy stem cells before the sun goes down on this day... A couple of months of recovery and a few hormone injections later, and Rachel's body will have been sufficiently fooled into thinking that it is healthy long enough to burrow Noah's cells deep inside of it and eventually pick up in some of their failed responsibilities themselves._

_The problem is that Shelby has long since learned that things very rarely go exactly according to plan. _

_But she cannot pretend that it does not feel nice to finally see a preview of her daughter beginning to feel genuinely good again._

_ From inside of her bed, Rachel rambles endlessly, just as Shelby knows she had been so prone to doing before cancer had silenced her... She speaks highly of her vague understanding of what life will be like with leukemia turned firmly towards their backs, dreaming of wonders that can only come from a four year old child that has now spent half of a year inside of a hospital bed... going to school, playing with her friends, finally feeling healthy enough to pursue a budding passion of music that she had inherited from her mother... _

_ These are dreams that most preschool aged children can only take for granted although Shelby does not blame them... It is the requirement of a child to take advantage of the very best that life can offer until they finally realize just how much it can take away from them in turn.. They are dreams that are all larger than her, but then again Rachel had been born with the capability of dreaming only in terms of the world and nothing less..._

_She is so full of life in her excitement that it is difficult for Shelby to remember the reason that they are all here in the first place... All of these tubes, these wires, these doctors, at this point, they are all just there. _

_ "Rachel honey, you need to sit down you're going to hurt yourself..." Shelby warns her daughter to tone it down a notch or two as the young girl attempts to maneuver herself into a standing position inside of her bed, dancing in time with the television that blasts some children's program strictly for the sake of background noise._

_ The girl adheres to her mother's advice, plopping back down onto her backside, laughing the whole way down... The noise floats like a symphony into Shelby's ears, and although she attempts to push all of her hopes away from her for fear of wishful thinking, while Rachel is busy babbling about all of the age-appropriate activities that she will be performing the second that she is granted amnesty from the prison that this hospital has since become, Shelby is busy mixing together much bigger plans inside of her own head..._

_ For the first time in a long time, Shelby watches her daughter and can actually picture her face frozen inside of still photographs proudly displaying her senior prom, her college graduation, her wedding day... Now when Rachel speaks of one day gracing a Broadway stage, Shelby finds it inside of her tired heart to believe that it is a vision that she will actually get to see. _

_ For the first time in a long time it becomes easy for Shelby to ignore the scalp paved with nothing more than a couple stray strands of peach fuzz, the bones popping out from beyond jaunt cheeks, the burns of radiation marring once smooth skin..._

_For the first time in a long time, her four year old becomes just that – a four year old – and although Shelby knows that this adventure is far from over, it is easy for her to forget that._

"_Surprise!" Shelby's trance is pulled away by a chorus of echoes that stems from within the doorway... She has been so suctioned in by the contagious presence of the shadow of the child that she used to know that she had forgotten all about the strategically scheduled visit that Shelby had planned in an effort to boost Rachel's confidence in her procedure; a boost – it is becoming starkly apparent to Shelby – that Rachel doesn't even need in the first place. _

_Of course, her brother's presence could never hurt Rachel's already contagious mood. _

_Shelby smiles slightly as her son barges forwards, her own sister in tow, struggling to keep up with the lively child... He is excited and Shelby cannot blame him... Noah hasn't been able to see his sister in almost a month. _

_ With the remnants of his recent battle against the flu becoming a potential breeding ground for an infection that could set Rachel back months, the separation had clearly been taking its toll on the already battered family... Still reeling with the loss of one of their own, to her two young children, even the most miniscule of separations have become easily equated as abandonment these days._

_ Shelby had spent each of her days attempting to explain the facts of the situation to Rachel but still, her daughter struggles to understand the rules of disease, her primordial desire for familiar contact not allowing her to understand that a simple illness for Noah can transcend into something much worse for herself should she come into contact with it..._

_Imagine, a four year old child forced to learn the ins and outs of a complexity such as leukemia before even being able to grasp an understanding of what the flu is... _

_Already off of his medication and back in school for a little more than two weeks now, Rachel's doctors had remained reluctant to give Noah the all clear to come and visit his sister – even briefly – despite their determination to be in the others presence..._

_ Shelby deems it a miracle that Noah has been granted permission to be present to watch his own precious stem cells get transferred inside of Rachel's body, to watch his contribution towards giving his sister a chance at a new life..._

_But today her son is all smiles as he saunters inside of Rachel's room with a confidence that Shelby hasn't been able to help but to notice has been building gradually... It is a personality developed in his response to becoming the man of the family before he has even had the opportunity to become a man. _

_ He wears a large Get Well Soon balloon that Shelby immediately recognizes from the display case outside of the gift shop in the lobby around his wrist like a badge of honor... The isolation gear that he wears as protocol just in case there remains any more lingering, disease-causing germs inside of his body hangs off loosely and drags near his feet, tripping him up with every step that he takes although he barely falters._

_ "Noah!" Rachel squeals in her giddy delight as she blatantly ignores her mother's previous request for her to calm herself down and stands upwards and onto her feet once more. The mattress sinks slightly beneath her miniscule weight as Rachel reaches to her maximum capacity in an effort to meet her brother half way, the various leads and wires dangling from her small body stretching taut as she hangs over the plastic barricade designated to keep her from falling out of her bed although the design seems to be having a run for its money the way that Rachel is currently attacking it. _

_ The sound of her daughter's sheer joy is enough to snatch the stern warning straight from Shelby's throat as her heart begins to melt with appreciation towards this rare gift that she has been granted. _

"_Did you miss me, Rachel?"_

* * *

><p>Shelby Corcoran finds Jesus at the top of a sixteen story stairwell.<p>

In a fit of desperation, when the air inside of the waiting room that she had been unceremoniously deposited inside of had finally become much too thin for her to properly breathe, Shelby had decided to take the easy way out.

It started as a binge sprint, one flight of stairs rapidly becoming sixteen – and repeat. It was a failed effort to relieve some of the stress currently mounting so high inside of her skull that Shelby fears that she might explode.

Her face is bright red, hair matted down with sweat and sticking flat against the top of her head. She is on her fourth trip up the vertical length of the familiar building when she trips, her ankle twisting around itself in a manner that sends her crashing instantly to her knees.

Pain bursts across her lower extremities... Her mind screams at her to keep moving, but her own body rebels against her, forcing her to sit against the top step with her face buried deep inside of her hands; a ruined effort to blow off some steam transferring from physical aggression to physical tears.

She is just beginning to realize that falling down cannot always translate into getting back up to try again when the priest makes his way past her.

He comes from the top floor geriatric ward. It isn't exactly an uncommon sight, but Shelby swears that if she watches this man descend the staircase and stop off onto the floor that her daughter is currently teetering between life and death on, she will lose it entirely.

"Are you okay, miss?"

"I'm fine." Shelby spews instinctively, turning her head away from this man on account of the idea that she has always possessed a particular uncertainty when it came down to priests... Whether it be the whole Jewish thing, or else her tendencies towards rejecting the concept of religion as a whole, or who knew, maybe even those stupid white collars that they wore around her neck, priests had _always_ made her uncomfortable.

And Lord knows that Shelby doesn't have any more room left inside of her body for any more discomfort.

"You know m'ame, if you're feeling a little bit lost, there is a chapel downstairs on the third floor." She may be desperate for some steering in the right direction, but this is the exact opposite path that she wants to take right now.

Shelby doesn't need a chapel. She doesn't need a cheap imitation of superstition or prayer to help her. No, right now the only thing that she needs is a miracle.

"I'm Jewish..." Shelby buries her face inside of her hands and mutters inside of her palms as she uses the tips of her fingers to wipe away at the sweat beading against her forehead like windshield wipers... She doesn't even want to look up at him.

"There's also a non-denominational center..."

"Thank you, but I'm really not interested." Shelby cuts him off sharply, wondering whether or not there is a special place reserved in hell for people who are rude to priests...

Not that she doesn't already have her spot reserved.

The man pauses, staring downwards towards her with a careful consideration as if to try and read whether or not Shelby is speaking out of lack of interest or if she really is looking for something much deeper inside of herself that not even she can understand.

Briefly, Shelby wonders the same thing.

"I hope that you find your peace." He eventually settles, and Shelby is grateful that he does not linger upon the lost cause that is her life but instead, offers her a soft nod, stepping past her and making his descent before depositing himself off one floor below her feet.

Shelby chokes in the silence all over again. These days, the only thing that it seems she can do is cry... Options are not particularly numerous once you've been enclosed inside of a small space waiting for your daughter to die.

"Yeah..." She finally breathes although she knows that all forms of conscious life are now long gone from her direct vicinity. Her voice shakes underneath itself. Shelby is exhausted from succumbing to her body's having been eating itself alive for these past months worth of days and today, she can only pray to whatever God may be listening to her that her little family may still be fixable.

"Me too..."

* * *

><p><em>Three hours following the biggest moment of her life to date, Rachel sits bored atop her bed and messes with an old game of Candy Land that a child life specialist has bought for her.<em>

_ Noah sits across from her and pretends to enjoy himself for Rachel's sake. Meanwhile, Shelby has yet to find a means to wipe that dazed look of awe from her face as doctors, nurses, psychologists and social workers round into and out of Rachel's hospital room and ask her how she is holding up... They fear her sanity beginning to teeter at the end of this long journey but really, Shelby has never felt more alive in her entire life..._

_Six months to this very day Shelby Corcoran had woke up under the impression that the biggest problem in her life was that she had overslept a couple of hours._

_Six months and Shelby still has the play-by-play of events that has lead them to this very spot that they sit in today playing on an incessant loop inside of her head, arranged to the exact. _

_ Six months and by some miraculously unplanned, extraordinary coincidence, today just so happens to be the day that their family will finally receive the opportunity for new life in every sense of the word – a second chance that has come to them in the form of a small bag of stem cells, removed from her son for the sake of her daughter. _

_She sits curled inside of a ball in a chair besides her daughter's bedside. Her chin rests precariously inside of her own hand, eyes wide as she continuously alternates her attention between the children before her and the clock that dangles tauntingly against the wall above all of their heads, unable to decide which one she would like to concentrate on more..._

_ On one hand, Shelby is so used to watching the clock that she can barely tell the difference between reality and her own skewed perception of time anymore... To her, the clock has become nothing more than a symbol of a relentless countdown to an eternity that everybody eventually realizes, you cannot be apart of forever... It is a reminder of the months, the days, the very seconds that have been spent with chemotherapy treatments and radiation therapy, with sick daughters and rebelling sons, with dead husbands and dreary children still struggling to piece together where their father has gone and why he will never be coming back again..._

_ On the other hand, Shelby can't help but to transfix her eyes upon her own kids'._

_ It is a habit that Shelby had developed within seconds of her son's birth... A healthy, angelic, beautiful baby boy that had somehow managed to inherit only the best of his parents; the strength and good looks of his father that had matched in a perfect harmony with the independence and determination of his mother. She used to sit awake inside of his nursery for hours, awestruck at something so seemingly simple as an infant sleeping..._

_And then Rachel had been born and in her birth sparked a vigil that derived out of necessity; a prayer circle for the tiny infant inside of the NICU in a prestigious New York City hospital... _

_ But despite the circumstances, her daughter's birth had transpired into that same awe, that same disbelief – a surge of energy that did not diminish with repetition... _

_To Shelby, the amazement of a possibility that two entities so truly remarkable could ever come from a person like her will never fade. _

_At the time, Shelby had foolishly joked that her biggest wish in life would be to have her children stay that way forever... So tiny that she could cradle them within the palms of her cupped hands, entirely dependent upon her very presence, strikingly innocent and detached from the evils of the world for all eternity..._

_ Deep down, Shelby had known this for the impossibility that it was – even back then - but today as Shelby stares at her daughter, a girl that had been nothing more than a typical four year old six months ago, a child forced to grow so much older beyond her actual years, this notion hits her like a freight train. _

_But today is the end. _

_Well, actually it is not the end... Shelby is neither foolish nor naïve enough to believe that today is anything more than the beginning of the end. _

_ In her nervous excitement, Shelby begins to fidget, her fingers drumming progressively faster against her own sharp chin as her feet begin to follow the rhythm, tapping in double time against the tile floor, each motion counting the seconds since Rachel's transplant, the seconds until they can be informed for certain of its successes despite the idea that she knows there are still much too many to actually count. _

_ Desperation slowly slips inside of her every movement. This needs to be the turning point for this family. Shelby is certain that she will not be able to survive another series of months laced with such a rapid decline of fortune as these past few have brought her. She is certain that she will not be able to survive anymore stubborn cancer cells or angry sons or dead husbands..._

_ So although Shelby knows that tonight may not be a true marker of the end as a whole, she marks it as such anyway... _

"_How are you guys holding up?"_

_The voice of their knight in shining armor greets Shelby like a symphony. She doesn't even have to turn her head to recognize Dr. McCarthy's voice as he saunters forwards towards the familiar family for the first time since he had infused Noah's stem cells into Rachel's body over three hours ago now. _

_ Just like on the day of Rachel's diagnosis, on the day of her final treatment it takes Shelby a couple of hours for the opportunity to answer the multitude of questions burrowing down inside of the inner depths of her very brain..._

_ Last time she had been in this position, Shelby had been crippled by her own naivety, flustered with a confusion that had come in a swarm of information and bad news that she could not comprehend the answers to. Last time, her husband had been by her side to hold her hand the entire time... Today, Shelby holds her head up with the confidence of experience and understanding, a hope that she will only hear good news as opposed to a paralyzing bad. Today, Shelby tries to convince herself that the emptiness inside of her palm is of no concern._

_ "We're okay..." Shelby smiles gently. She has been asked this very question countless times over the last six months but today, for the first time since, she actually believes her own answer. _

_ "How about you, Princess?" He turns towards her daughter, whose response is projected through the idea that she is all smiles. "How are you feeling?"_

_ "I'm good..." Rachel murmurs uninterested, clearly distracted in the board game that is splayed at her stockinged feet or else, distracted in just how badly she is beating her brother in this match that is based much more on luck than actual skill, although Shelby does not have the hear to tell this to Rachel. _

_ "I'm glad to hear it." The doctor smiles genuinely but does not linger against the girl whose priorities are clearly not him. Briefly, Shelby comes to wonder whether or not he is overcome by a sense of pride every time he sees the portrait of his own hard work transcend into new life for a child who otherwise didn't have a chance in life... "Shelby," He addresses her once more and Shelby perks instantly in her commitment towards attention to detail. "You look... overwhelmed." _

_ She slouches once more, interpreting his words as an accusation. Overwhelming is one way to describe today's events, who's chaos rivaled even that of the day that Rachel was first diagnosed... Her mind as been swirling all day long, a wide variety of emotions that not even Shelby can collect into one distinct thought despite all of her experience. _

"_I'm just thinking too hard, that's all." _

"_Anything that I can help you with?" He pulls up a chair, signifying his dedication to conversation as he sits across from Shelby and leans forward inside of his seat awaiting her reply. _

_ "What is going to happen next?" The most prominent of all of her racing thoughts spews unconsciously from her mouth, sounding much more desperate than anything that Shelby would have preferred. "I'm not talking about tomorrow or even a month from now... I'm talking about in five years, ten, thirty..."_

_ "Shelby..." He licks his lips as he considers her answer carefully. His eyes glance downwards towards the tile floor below his feet as he attempts to tackle the broad answer that warrants the worried mother's broad question. "The thing is – especially with childhood leukemias – we're always trying to look ahead into the future... This type of cancer, it moves so quickly that there really isn't a lot of other options. Rachel is going to have to be carefully monitored for the rest of her life. The smallest sign of potential blast cells inside of her system and we will be right back to square one all over again." _

_ "So you're saying that she can relapse?" The mother's voice drops instinctively in an effort to prevent her child from hearing anything bad on a day that is supposed to be indoctrinated with so much good... Shelby's shoulders square in her natural response to her child being threatened as she sits forwards inside of her seat once more, already prepared to pounce down upon the unsuspecting, invisible bodies inside of her daughter that can bring the child harm... again._

_ "It's not unheard of." The doctor shakes his head. It is an unfortunate answer that he delivers reluctantly, but still out of necessity. "Unfortunately, until we can find a means to rewrite her genes in their entirety, this will simply be written inside of her system... Now this is not a guarantee that she will face any problems down the line, but it is still a possibility."_

_ "So what do we do if that happens?"_

_ "Shelby, today is the day of your daughter's stem cell transplant... This is a good thing. You don't have to spend this day worrying about any of the what if's down the line. This is your free pass to hold it off until tomorrow." He laughs heartily towards what he is perceiving as a mother's unnecessary worry – if there is such a thing – but Shelby cannot find it inside of her heart to match his enthusiasm. _

_ "You just said to look into the future..." She repeats his own words, but the soft smile that he delivers her informs Shelby that he did not mean for her to interpret them so literally._

_ "Not that far into the future." _

_ "Please, Dr. McCarthy..." His sense of comfort does not ease Shelby's frantic mind. Her face sinks, eyes contorting pleadingly as she begs the doctor for a little bit more of a sense of assurance towards a glimpse of a future that does not involve cancer. _

_ "Okay..." He nods carefully. The mother is determined and thorough, but this is a characteristic that he has identified inside of the Corcoran family from day one. "The thing that makes leukemia tricky is that it tends to develop a resistance towards treatments relatively easily... The same thing isn't going to work over and over again which basically means that if this does come back, it may not be as easy as a couple of rounds of chemotherapy and pumping her full of her brother's stem cells." _

_ "So you're saying that there's only so much that we can do?" Shelby's heart hiccups inside of her own chest... She wouldn't have called these past few months easy, not be a long shot, but the idea that things may get even harder should they have to do it all over again absolutely terrifies her._

_ "I'm saying that until the research catches up with Rachel, there won't be any guarantees in the case of a relapse." He nods, indicating that Shelby's words were spot on, that he was merely sugarcoating them in an effort to make them sound easier although to Shelby, it was all the same._

_ "So she'll die if this ever comes back?" Her voice is barely above a whisper as she stares dumbfounded towards the young girl, so full of life for the first time in so long and wonders just how much time is left on that dangerously ticking clock of hers..._

_ "Shelby, this route is not the only option of treatment..." He shakes his head in the assurance of a firm plan B should the day ever come that it was needed. "There is extended chemotherapy paths, immunotherapy, radiation, brand new drugs that are being researched every day..."_

_ "But what will her chances be if this ever does come back?" Shelby is persistent only because she has to be. She refuses to be anything but thorough. Her children cannot afford for her to be anything less than fully prepared. _

_ "Shelby..." He sighs, shaking his head through a smile against the woman's stubborn nature, taking his time as he crouches slightly closer towards her, places both hands on either one of her shoulders and looks her dead on inside of her eyes - _

"_You can breathe now."_

* * *

><p>"Shelby, you can breathe now."<p>

There is a pain inside of Shelby's chest that only becomes apparent when the doctor calls attention to it. Dots flash vibrantly in front of her, a product of suppressed oxygen that makes even the most vivid of colors inside the room fade into nothing more than black and white patterns.

"I will breathe when I know that my daughter's life is not on the line!" She snaps without particularly meaning to, but the last hour of so has been the ultimate test on her already teetering patience and Shelby has absolutely nothing left to give.

"She's stable..." The doctor informs her, but the tone behind his voice does not make the constriction pressing against her windpipe any easier. "For the time being."

Her response is a mere, short head not. Her tired body cannot produce much more as her eyes flutter closed and her head lowers to a rest in between her knees, caught somewhere inside of a purgatory between immediate relief and impending loss; a combination that practically has her on her knees.

"Shelby, I... I can't be entirely certain how much longer this can last..." A choking sob releases subconsciously from the depths of Shelby's throat... It's an elongated, ugly noise that singes like fire against her airway, leaving a residual burn that Shelby welcomes so long as it erases the pain currently burrowing inside of her heart, if only for a moment.

Twelve years ago when the doctors had assured Shelby that the stem cell transplant seemed to be working, she would spend her days lying awake inside of her bed at night waiting for the phone call – somebody calling to inform her that this was all one big mistake. She had gotten too comfortable with the idea that it wasn't, and now that Rachel's doctor was turning around to tell her that it _was_, she is embarrassed to admit that she had already foolishly allowed herself to grow comfortable with the idea that she had gotten lucky.

It only made everything hurt that much more.

"What... what caused it?" Shelby speaks through a forced breath of air, knowing full well what the consequences of losing control would mean for both her and Rachel right now, and why she could not afford to go down that road. "The seizure, I mean..."

"Rachel has developed a serious infection in one of her kidneys."

"From the dialysis?" Shelby questions him as a formality. It is an answer that she already knows, that she has known from the moment that she had been physically dragged kicking and screaming from her daughter's bedside.

"Yes Shelby... from the dialysis." He nods in a steady confirmation, his eyes never once leaving Shelby's as if attempting to self assess her mental stability, ensuring that she wasn't about to pull a fast one on him and throw herself out of the window in her grief. "We've known for a little while now that dialysis simply is not a feasible option for somebody like Rachel... Our biggest fear going into it was that it could ultimately turn around and do more harm than good and unfortunately, that is the case here."

"I don't... I don't understand how this is possible." Shelby thinks aloud, pinching the bridge of her nose in thought as she attempts to piece together the complicated pieces of this never ending puzzle. "I thought that the dialysis was supposed to save her life not... not _end_ it."

"Dialysis has always been nothing more than a temporary solution, Shelby." Dr. McCarthy reminds Shelby as if she ever needed reminding that the only thing that she could ever provide her children with were a bunch of half-assed, temporary solutions that could never provide any sense of permanence, "Rachel began dialysis already in a fragile state where after enough time, an infection wasn't an impossibility, it was an inevitability... We took a big risk but the antibiotics haven't been working, and if we can't get them to suppress this infection, it will only spread."

"Spread?" Shelby's head perks upwards in curiosity as she asks for answers that she's not entirely sure she wants.

"Eventually, it's going to enter inside of her blood stream, infiltrate any and every vital organ system that it can find... And it's going to happen fast." He doesn't speak hypothetically. Instead, his tone indicates that this is not a prediction, it is an expectation.

"But what will happen now that she's off of dialysis for good?" Shelby's head is spinning. She can't seem to keep track of all of the different ways that things can go wrong here. The only thing that she can seem to focus on is that every one of these paths seems to fall together into one distinct ending; an impossibility that Shelby cannot even consider.

"The toxins will build gradually inside of her system... It can take days, it can take weeks, it's hard to tell exactly, but in Rachel's case... Rachel has a lot of cards stacked up against her." There is a calm inside of his voice that Shelby knows is forced. "Edema will eventually start placing pressure against her body. It will cause nausea, muscle pain, breathlessness..."

"Will she be in any pain at all?" Shelby takes a carefully orchestrated breath and forces herself to ask the question that she knows she has to if only for Rachel's sake.

"No." There is no hesitation behind his answer, only a single, enunciated response; a quiet assurance to a grieving mother that he can at least provide her with this much.

"How..." Shelby pauses through a heavy swallow before she can even finish. Tears filter along the undersides of her eyes as she forces herself to slow down, turning her face upwards towards the light trying to force them back down inside of her body. "How will it happen?"

"Shelby, I..."

"Please." Shelby cuts off his attempt towards trying to assure her that these are details that the mother need not worry herself over because he knows just as badly as she does how much ignorance will claw away at her insides... To Shelby, every detail is vital.

Even the ones that she doesn't want to know.

"Eventually, all of the things that Rachel's kidneys can't clear on its own will build up inside of her body; water, urea salts... It can cause a heart attack or stroke..." Shelby powers through her answer, trying to pretend that it does not effect her, being told that her sixteen year old may be lost to something that should not even be a blip on her radar yet. "Or the infection can also grow and cause sepsis, or maybe an internal hemorrhage from the cancer... Whichever one comes first, Shelby... I'm sorry that I can't predict what is going to happen Shelby. It can be anything."

"But she won't be in any pain?" Shelby reiterates her most vital of concerns, finding it suddenly difficult to believe the doctor's initial answer now that she has been told everything that Rachel is standing up against.

"She won't be in any pain." Dr. McCarthy emphasizes his initial answer with a confident nod of her head. "I can promise you that much, Shelby... She won't be in any pain."

"But... but what about the kidney transplant? Will she still be able to go into surgery? And then... then we can control the infection and go back to our sole focus being on treating the cancer again and then Rachel will... she'll be okay." Shelby is starkly aware of just how desperate she sounds, begging for an answer from Rachel's doctor that does not end with her attending her own daughter's funeral.

"We don't have a donor, Shelby..." The doctor shakes his head sadly, sympathy dancing deep down inside of his eyes towards the fact that he cannot provide her with any more concrete answers than this. "And unless a miracle kidney pops up out of nowhere and it does so _tomorrow_, this is it... This is the end."

Shelby freezes, her body turning to stone as the very last of her hopes are stomped straight inside of the ground... She remains silent. Considering the fact that breathing is too much to ask of her right now, speaking has been abandoned as a plausible option a long time ago.

"When she was four years old she invited me to her wedding..." The doctor sighs as he plays with the slightly frayed edges of his lab coat. Shelby releases a breath in response that shakes so violently that her entire body shudders alongside it.

Closing her eyes, Shelby buries her face deep inside of her palms and tries desperately to pretend that she is anywhere but here. The memory is painful. Shelby herself still has her own crayon scribbled wedding invitation that Rachel had drawn inside of this very hospital twelve years ago hanging above her desk in her study at home.

"I promised her that I would be there."

"Maybe you still can." Shelby is persistent. Her heart pounds just a little bit faster inside of her chest as she watches Dr. McCarthy shake his head gently from side to side, his actions countering entirely, his words of otherwise assurance...

"Maybe..."

* * *

><p>The sun is at a point inside of the sky that no matter where Shelby moves, it shines directly inside of her eyes.<p>

She is forced to squint as the glare bounces through the thin glass partition that separates the hallway from the inside of her daughter's hospital room...

Shelby wants nothing more than to run inside and to hug her... She can feel her heart tearing further out of her chest with every additional second that Rachel is not inside of her arms, breaking in two towards the idea that there is absolutely nothing that she can do in order to take this pain away from her...

Her hand lingers against the doorknob but still, Shelby has not managed to bring herself to go inside quite yet, unable to face the fact that it she does, there is a chance that she will have to say goodbye to her daughter...

"Hey, what are you doing out here?"

Shelby freezes towards the familiar sound of her sister's voice as the slightly younger woman comes up behind her with a purse around her shoulder and a duffel bag of essentials for Shelby clasped inside of her free hand.

"Um... I..." Shelby stammers, struggling to find words for what seems like the first time in her entire life as she stares inside of her sister's eyes and wonders how it is she will possibly be able to repeat anything that Dr. McCarthy had just told her.

"Hey... are you okay?" Through pursed lips, Shelby only nods. The right words are halfway out of her mouth before she swallows them once more.

She isn't ready for this... She will never be ready for this.

"Okay..." Krista breathes, letting her answer go under the impression that Shelby is simply exhibiting the basic stresses of chaotic parenthood... It is impossible that she can know that the added weight of a death sentence recently handed down to her daughter is currently bearing down upon her shoulders as she turns and stands shoulder to shoulder with her sister and matches her gaze as it glazes over towards Rachel... "Rachel looks good today."

Krista lies because this is what sisters do for each other. Today, it hurts particularly badly.

Shelby doesn't provide Krista with a response because she does not have one. Instead, she chooses to allow the pain to build gradually inside of her chest, her heart thumping inside of her ears until the strain weighs so heavily against her that it physically hurts.

"So... the nephrology lab called your house while I was there about an hour ago..." Krista initiates conversation awkwardly on account of the fact that the sound of Shelby's heartbeat counting the idle seconds between them is no longer working for either one, "Something about nine kids being tested as potential donors for Rachel..."

"What did they say?" Shelby's head snaps upwards towards her sister, responding so animatedly that her neck cracks; a loud, whipping sound that echoes down the length of an otherwise empty hallway... Krista cringes in response. Shelby doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm sorry, Shelby..." The mother sinks visibly... She isn't sure how much more bad news she can possibly tolerate today, but she is certain that her limit is running close. "None of them were matches."

Shelby's head is racing, but through her frantic desire to piece together how it is that her family's elaborate misfortune is even remotely possible, she remains silent. The only physical response that she can produce is a small shake of her head as she begins to wonder what kind of stars she will have to align in order to ensure her daughter to be saved.

"It was Quinn..." She finally breathes, the only thing that she can think to say being an explanation, powering forwards in an effort to prevent herself from falling down entirely.

"Quinn Fabray?" Krista turns her head towards her intrigued, eyebrows cocked with disbelief judging on the fact that the only stories that Krista has ever heard of Quinn Fabray were those of the woe and suffering that she had befallen upon Rachel growing up.

"Yeah, can you believe it?" Shelby masks her sister's surprise towards the young blonde's remarkable development of character; a mask of pride behind her voice towards the ability of this girl that she barely even knows to bud independently away from the prejudiced roof that she had been raised under. "She got a bunch of the kids from Rachel and Noah's glee club to band together and get tested... Dr. McCarthy told me that there were only five or six kids as of yesterday, but I know how persuasive that Quinn can be..."

"I guess that she found a way..." Krista shrugs as if detail is not the important factor to be lingered on in this equation because as good as Quinn's surprising intentions had been, they had come up empty for a family clawing desperately for a solution to a growing problem.

"Nine..." Shelby shakes her head against Krista's insistencies to not spend too much time reflecting, breathing softly in wonderment, the repetition of Krista's own words.

"What?" Krista asks her to repeat herself, glancing towards Shelby as though she is crazy... Even Shelby herself is starting to believe that maybe she might be.

"You said that the nephrology lab had nine kids from the glee club tested as a donor... There's twelve kids in glee, minus Rachel and Noah, that's ten." Her mind is clawing for details that her tired brain cannot seem to process, but she wants to know; no, she _needs_ to know. There is a sense of unease bubbling inside of the pit of her stomach regarding these circumstances – that she otherwise poises an undying sense of gratitude towards – that she just cannot seem to pinpoint.

"What does it matter, Shelby?" Krista sighs in her growing frustration towards her sister's persistence, "The only thing that you're going to do pining through all of these details is eat yourself alive. They aren't going to make a difference one way or the other."

"I guess..." Shelby breathes, shaking her head as her thoughts swirl into a common memory, something that her son had told her before he began speaking in a spiteful display of anger every time he opened his mouth in front of her... Santana had quit the glee club. Shelby herself had witnessed first hand the bizarre behaviors that the girl had been placing on display lately and that was just a brief glimpse...

It doesn't take Shelby very long to figure out the answers that she is craving.

"So..." Krista breaks through Shelby's deep train of thought, clapping her hands together with a loud smack that has Shelby flinching as she turns her face up and towards her sister. "Now that we know that Noah's kidney is our only option, what are we going to do about this whole Rachel denying it thing?"

For several extended seconds, Shelby's only response is a heavy, exaggerated exhale. Otherwise, she is silent; her mouth gently opening and closing several times with the realization that she has absolutely nothing to say.

The truth is that she has no idea what she is going to do about this whole '_Rachel denying Noah's kidney thing._' If she did, Rachel sure as hell would not be laying just out of reach on her death bed. Noah wouldn't glare with disgust every time he looked at her.

Shelby is out of ideas entirely and slowly, it is starting to break something inside of her.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Krista repeats Shelby's sentiments, her eyebrows raising so high that they disappear inside of her hairline as though she is appalled by her answer. Shelby tries not to hold the reaction against her, she tries to remind herself that her sister cannot possibly understand the sense of defeat that comes hand in hand with being told that there is next to nothing that you can do to save your child's life. "You have to have something."

"I was... I was really hoping that Rachel was just being defiant... dramatic. You know how she can get." Shelby breathes her thoughts aloud, her deepest of insecurities coming to light as she attempts to assess a seemingly impossible situation. "I didn't expect this... And now all of her doctors are starting to come to me, talking to me about alternate options..."

Shelby pauses in the reminder that this will all be brand new news to Krista, who Shelby had purposefully left in the dark regarding her previous discussion with Dr. McCarthy out of necessities sake... It pains her even now, the thought that they are still discussing major decisions to proceed though the course of Rachel's life without Rachel physically present... Nobody ever bothers asking the one person who deserves to speak it the most, what she thinks.

"What kind of alternate options do we have?" Krista laughs casually, indicating that in her mind, she understands that the only other alternate option that they have is to allow Rachel to die, but that it is a thought too appalling for her to possibly believe.

When Shelby remains silent in response, shock slowly spreads across her face as she begins to realize that this is the _exact_ alternate option that Shelby is speaking of... Her eyes darken instantly.

"You can't be serious."

"Shelby Corcoran?" She is spared the need for a response to an accusation that stabs like a knife through the heart by a woman who at first glance, appears to be a stranger but then again, Shelby has met so many people inside of this hospital in these last several days that she cannot be entirely certain.

"Yes..." Shelby turns hesitantly, understandably on high guard as she immediately grows wary of allowing yet another person into her inner circle of a looming nervous breakdown.

"My name is Janice Ruddock..." She is all business. Her hand juts forwards so sharply that Shelby does not have the opportunity to hesitate as she responds naturally, grasping it and offering a gentle shake; the strongest thing that her weakened limbs can manage. "I'm the hospice coordinator here at Lima Memorial."

"Hospice?" Shelby questions, her hand dropping from this woman's in an instant, her jaw slackening automatically as her eyes widen in response to this woman's brash and abrupt appearance... Her emotions flash rampant inside of her head, shifting from shock, to awe to pure anger all in one shot...

What the hell was a hospice director coming to speak with her for?

Well actually, Shelby knows exactly what a hospice director was coming to speak with her about, she just doesn't want to hear it.

"First and foremost, I want to offer my most sincere apologies..." Her voice is automatic. It is a line that Shelby is certain she has used a hundred times today alone to unsuspecting families still recovering from a surprise savage attack... Her mere presence is a kick to the gut that is placing pressure against Shelby's already weakened knees, threatening to tap her out for good this time around. "I received a call earlier this morning from the director of oncology here at the hospital and he mentioned that quality of life care may be something that you will be interested in for your daughter's case."

"Shelby..." Krista's voice rings from behind her, sounding a perfect combination of both terrified and confused all at the same time. Shelby fidgets alongside the notion that she has been trapped inside a corner, her stomach twisting so harshly that she damn near loses its contents in their entirety. "What the hell is going on?"

Shelby merely waves her younger sister off. The spiral rotating inside of her head spins like a perpetual wheel until the anger begins to swell so violently inside of her veins that even she is afraid of what might happen next.

"My daughter's doctor spoke with me less than an hour ago..." Shelby's voice is low but it is littered with a dangerous undertone that indicates to the woman standing before her that she better quit now while she is still ahead or else risk Shelby's loss of an ability to control herself at all. "Do you think that it would be possible for you to give me a little bit more time to process the fact that I can't do anything other than sit here and watch my daughter die?"

In an explosion of rage directed, perhaps unfairly, towards this poor woman who had approached her with nothing less than the best of intentions, Shelby is taken aback... Her own words slip so casually past her lips that it takes even her a moment to recognize them... When she does, she is stunned.

_Rachel is going to die._

She has never been able to say this before. Despite the fact that this exact idea has been a forethought inside of her head for months now, it pains Shelby to admit how easily she was able to allow them to slip past her lips after so many months spent in confinement.

Shelby attempts to justify her meaning with the idea that in the long run, they were all going to die eventually – her, Noah, Rachel... None of them could possibly live forever, however desperately Shelby may wish that for her children, but this is not the way that it is supposed to be.

This is supposed to end with Rachel saying goodbye to her... Not the other way around.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Corcoran, I understand that this is a very difficult time, but my understanding is that Rachel's particular case is incredibly time sensitive..." She uses Rachel's name casually, and it sparks something inside of Shelby. The mother wonders what kind of person that it takes to do this job. She wonders whether or not the woman standing before her spent four years in college and God only knows how many more in graduate school, throwing away thousands of dollars a year only to learn how to become a soulless robot. "It is in the best interest of both you and Rachel right now to begin to prepare..."

"Don't you dare tell me what is in the best interest of my child!" Shelby's voice raises to the extent that it echoes off the hospital walls. She tries her best to calm herself, but the harder that she tries, the angrier that she seems to get... She is angry at herself for failing as both a wife _and_ a mother. She is angry at Noah for lashing out, she is angry at Rachel for being sick, she is angry at this woman for telling her everything that deep down she knows is only the God's honest truth... She is angry at everything. "She is going to be _fine_! She is going to be fine because I will not give up on her!"

"This is not about giving up, Mrs. Corcoran." Her eyes soften as she makes her assurances, "It's about letting go."

For a moment, Shelby is forced backwards by the mere weight of these words, a rush of nostalgia slapping her with a wave of astonishment as a memory is sparked inside of her head.

She is sitting inside of Rachel's hospital room, her four year old teetering on the brink between life and death as her son sleeps restlessly on the couch in the corner of the room... Her husband comes up behind her, wraps his broad arms around her shoulders and squeezes her tightly into his chest. He smells like a perfect combination of old cologne and exhaustion...

"_We're not giving up on her, we're letting her go... There's a difference."_

Twelve years ago, he had told her these exact same words, but they hadn't felt right then and they sure as hell did not feel right now.

"There is no difference..." Shelby whispers, her cheeks flushing red as her sinuses begin to explode against an outer layer of muscle and skin from all of the strain produced from her over active set of tear ducts.

"Excuse me?" The woman before her cocks her head with confusion as she attempts to figure out whether or not she has heard Shelby right... As it is, Shelby herself is only vaguely aware of the idea that she must sound crazy, talking to herself like this. She can't however, seem to bring herself to care.

"I'm not giving up on her do you hear me!" Shelby explodes in a sudden fit that has even her reeling backwards in her surprise... The hospice coordinator jumps backwards slightly, losing her footing as she is thrown for a shock by Shelby's sudden outburst, struggling to regain her sense of a steely composure that Shelby has since taken from her. "I'm not giving up, or letting her go, or however it is that you want to put it because it is all the same! She is going to be okay."

Shelby's actions counter her words in their entirety. As strings of confidence spew from between her lips, her body reacts traitorously, understanding the lie for what she truly understands it to be.

Shelby's body begins to tremble until her knees can no longer hold her upright. They lock only briefly before collapsing out from underneath her... Shelby blinks, and she is down on the floor.

"Okay, you need to leave now!" Her sister is the authoritative and defensive voice that Shelby cannot be for herself and her response is instantaneous. The second that Shelby is on the ground, Krista transforms into her hard, lawyer personality that allows her to take charge against the woman that has just shattered the last bit of sanity that Shelby has left.

Krista multitasks with grace, squatting down to comfort her sister while simultaneously working to verbally berate the woman that stands before them... It is a gift that both Krista, as well as their older brother had inherited from their mother, leaving Shelby wondering why she had been left out of the trait that she so desperately needed right about now.

"I'll come back a little bit later then..." She informs the pair, leaving Shelby to bite her tongue against telling her not to bother.

Shelby's breathing does not fully settle until she has safely seen the back of Janice Ruddock... As it is, she is embarrassed to have been left shaking inside of her younger sister's arms at the mere idea of having to face this woman again after the scene that she had just made in front of her.

"Shelby... what the hell is going on?" Her sister gives her a moment to process, but she is confused and alarmed – understandably so – and has taken to demanding the answers that Shelby knows she deserves... as difficult as it may be for her to deliver them.

"Have you seen Noah this afternoon?" Her priorities do not allow Shelby to respond to the question immediately... Instead she responds with yet another question, much more important in the mother's mindset than anything her sister – who hates to be left in the dark more than anything – could ever possibly imagine.

"Shelby!" Her voice raises with frustration as she attempts to snap Shelby out of the funk that she has fallen into and force her to address a situation that is clearly much more desperate than anything that she had believed upon walking into this hospital this morning. "You need to talk to me here! What was that all about? What is going on with Rachel?"

"Krista, I promise that I will explain everything to you in a little while." Shelby breathes, forcing her voice to calm as to place some much needed evidence on the side of her sanity right now. "But please. Right now I need Rachel and Noah to be together and I need to make sure that Noah is actually _here _when he comes here... I need to fix my son while I still have chance... So please. Have you seen Noah this afternoon?"

"He was asleep when I left the house." Krista breathes, responding to her sister's monologue with a gracious willingness... Shelby can physically see the gears churning inside of her head as she slowly begins to piece together the shattered remains of this tragic puzzle. A withdrawn Shelby begging for something both know is beyond her control – a son capable and in the right capacity to be told that the sister he adored has taken a turn for the worse – hospice coordinators coming up to speak with them...

"Good..." Shelby mutters absently, pulling herself up to her feet with a tremendous effort.

"I'll be right back."

* * *

><p><strong>Princess-N-xoxo<strong>** – I know, I know I'm evil :) Shelby's mindset is starting to switch gears. She's being slapped by reality hard and both her and Noah will have an opportunity to be reminded of what's really important in the next chapter.**

**Miriami**** – Thank you as always! They're in such a big mess right now, it's hard to see a light at the end of the tunnel but things are going to start piecing themselves together in the next chapter. It's starting to get to a point for Shelby where no matter how hard she's trying, not even she can live in a fantasy world anymore and once reality sets in, it will be a big help for both Noah and Rachel. They all still have a long way to go and not a lot of time to do it. Thanks again, your reviews always make me happy!**

**Just Me**** – Wow, thank you so much! Shelby is definitely going through the stages right now. This chapter was big for her because she is starting to accept reality a little bit more and in the next chapter she is going to be able to use this to reach out to both of her kids. They definitely need some uplifting, I'd say :) No problems at all, I actually really enjoyed writing that scene a lot so thank you for suggesting it! Thanks again for all of the well wishes!**

**Seacat03**** – She is definitely starting to get the wake up call that she needs. The initial results of the glee club getting tested weren't exactly what any of them were hoping for but I would count them out just yet. Thanks for the review!**

**Sillystarshine**** – Haha I figured I owed you all that much for the wait. Thanks for the review! **

**TheCdKnight**** – Thank you so much! I promise that the drama will carry through all the way into the epilogue. I'm a sucker for the angst. **

**Clara Meliza**** – It actually took me a really long time to decide whether or not I wanted Rachel to live or die (literally I just made a final decision about two weeks ago that I'm sticking with) I kept flip flopping back and forth. I will tell you this much, the drama will be a plenty and I'm not promising anything with the ending! Thanks for the review :) **


	47. Shelby Corcoran – January 2012 (PartIII)

**Shelby Corcoran – **January 2012  
><em>(Part III)<em>

* * *

><p><em>Rachel is not well.<em>

_Of course, this statement is not an entirely fair approximation considering these days, Rachel is rarely well... A more accurate account of events would be that today, Rachel can barely hold onto consciousness from inside her own bed..._

_ Tubes bloom like flower pedals across her skin. Every time Shelby so much as looks at her daughter, they seem to only multiply._

_ As Rachel's body continues to struggle in adjusting to its new, healthy immune system, it has taken to revolting violently against the change. _

_ At this point, Rachel is so sick that she is throwing up on an average of four times an hour. Daily. _

_And yes, Shelby has been counting._

_At first the doctors had feared that Rachel might be rejecting Noah's stem cell donation. _

_ Graft versus host had settled in earlier than anybody could have possibly anticipated. What had started with a rash spreading slowly across the length of her body had quickly become an onslaught of her already devastated gastrointestinal tract and mucosal membranes... _

_ Rachel got so sick so frequently that she could never be seen without an emesis basin in hand. When eventually, it reached the point where she was forced back into diapers, things were so unpredictable, her four year old was too mortified to so much as look her in the eye..._

_ The corticosteroids that the doctors had used in order to treat Rachel has left the normally miniscule girl swollen like a balloon. She is embarrassed to be seen by anybody that is not either her mother or brother. She barely so much as allows her beloved aunt or grandparents to come in to visit..._

_ Even when the uncle that Rachel had only met once on her third birthday flew in, away from the hectic Boston lifestyle that he rarely has an opportunity to leave behind, Rachel had turned him away despite a scolding from her mother on the consequences of being rude to guests... But her words had been out of necessity at best. The truth was that Shelby could not blame her; after all, Rachel had been lied to..._

_Rachel had been told that this treatment was going to make her feel better, not worse._

_The girl that had worn such a brave face throughout all of those harrowing, initial treatments has been reduced to a physical wreck by the one thing that is actually supposed to save her life. _

_ Shelby has been watching the progress with a distinct nervousness behind her actions... The residual effects remain, but more recently doctors have begun to tell her that Rachel's body is actually beginning to produce normal cells, which ultimately was the goal of the transplant to begin with... Shelby can only hope that they will forgive her when she tells them about her distinct inability of being trustworthy towards doctors anymore. _

_ She bites at her fingernails until they are reduced down to the quick, ignoring the pain that has since begun radiating from the tips of her fingers, begging her to stop... Within a couple of minutes, Shelby reduces once extravagant nail beds to mere stubs alongside the hope that eventually she will grow so numb that she doesn't even seem to mind anymore._

_On most days it is easy for her to forget that this is actually something good._

"_Momma... breathe..." Rachel captures her attention with an ease that only her children can manage... Her mouth and lungs remain lined with a thick layer of mucous from all the treatment. On the rare occasion that Rachel – whose mouth is typically never shut – actually does speak these days, it is only mere fragments that she can manage. _

_ Shelby has learned to equate the sound of her breathing with that of a drowning victim. The mother sits diligently at her bedside, day and night with a suction tube clenched tightly inside of the palm of her hands at all times. _

_ It acts like a lifeline but only briefly. Shelby clears Rachel's air passages for her, but relief lasts only seconds. _

_ "It's okay baby," Shelby coos her words of encouragement, one hand rotating the suction tube inside of Rachel's mouth with an air of expertise as the other pats gently against her rail-thin back; a convenient measure of both calming her ailing daughter while while simultaneously fighting to loosen all of the materials collected inside of her chest. "Mommy's got you, Rae... I'm going to make everything all better again. I promise." _

_ Shelby exaggerates her capabilities in dramatic fashion as she conducts a symphony with the perfect figure eight motions of her hands. Rachel nods her head but at the same time, she is using the back of her tiny hands to wipe away at the tears leaking from her eyes that are bigger than she is. She turns her body away from her mother the second that she can comfortably breathe on her own once more. _

_ Shelby struggles to figure out when the exact moment that her four year old decided that she didn't want her mother to see her cry actually was but it seemed to have slipped right past her just like so many others are so prone to doing lately... When did Rachel go from that fussy, over dramatic infant comfortable in any capacity as long as she was in between her mother's open arms to a pessimistic adult trapped inside of a four year old's body?_

_'Six months ago...' Shelby answers her own question, 'That's when." _

_She is just committing to closing her eyes for the briefest of rests when her cell phone wails at her from her pocket book with the force of a gun shot. _

_ Shelby jumps at the sound, the suction tube slipping from between her fingers and onto the floor as she races to answer her phone before it has the opportunity to disturb her ailing daughter more than it already has..._

"_Hello?" Rachel is far from asleep but still, Shelby whispers so softly that she is surprised that the person at the other end of this conversation has even heard her. _

_ "Mrs. Corcoran?" The familiar voice has her heart speeding up endlessly inside of her chest. The man that addresses her sounds exasperated, utterly exhausted to the point that his voice raises despite himself... Shelby cringes, raising her hand to muffle the receiver as she checks to ensure that her daughter's back remains turned defiantly away from her. _

_ "Yes..." She hesitates, wondering only briefly whether or not to lie about her identity will make this conversation any easier before thinking better of the idea. Her voice is hushed as if to silently indicate for this man addressing her to repeat her actions... Follow my lead, she always teaches her children... _

_But she highly doubts that she will ever be able to achieve the same effect she does with her six and four year old with her son's elementary school principal._

"_This is Michael Vioni," He states what Shelby already knows. The man has been the only person who ever bothers to call her anymore, rapidly gaining prize as her number one contact as her son continues to choose the worst possible time to dabble with delinquency... "I'm sorry to bother you Mrs. Corcoran, I know how busy you are but I'm going to have to ask you to please come to the school as quickly as possible..."_

_ "What did he do?" Shelby doesn't hesitate. She is not stupid enough to believe that this is anything even close to a friendly call requesting a friendly visit judging by Noah's behavior in recent weeks – a clear cut cry for attention as Shelby continues to struggle to figure out how exactly it is possible for her to be in two places at once; at home and in the hospital. _

"_Mrs. Corcoran I would much rather discuss this with you in person if..."_

_ "What did he do?" She repeats herself with a punctuated forcefulness behind her voice, her own tone raising gradually in volume so that she comes off as practically begging this man to tell her what her latest source of tragedy will be today..._

_ It does not pass unnoticed through her mind, the fact that desperation does not look particularly becoming on her... Shelby has yet to decide whether or not she cares. _

_ "He pushed Suzy Pepper off of the playground today at recess... She broke her glasses and received a cut on her forehead. Now the nurse doesn't think that she will need stitches but..." He tapers off as Shelby releases an involuntary hiss, indicating that this man does not need to finish this sentence, that in fact she would prefer it if he didn't. "He is being sent home for the day and will be suspended from school tomorrow. I need you to please come down to the main office to pick him up." _

_ Tears laced with a combination of both anger and embarrassment sting at the undersides of Shelby's tired eyes. There is a pain in her chest that she cannot begin to comprehend as she begins to wonder whether or not her faith and dedication to her family will ever be rewarded or if she will just continue to be punished for the rest of her life._

_ The sense of disappointment pinning her heart against her ribcage strikes her more than any other emotion that she can physically comprehend... Her son – the boy with the fantastically large heart that Shelby always believed would one day be capable of stopping the very world in order to start his own – was slowly chipping away at her composure in her inability to decipher what it is that she can possibly do with him. _

_ He was too young for this... He was too young for any of this._

_ Squeezing her eyes closed tight, Shelby's face scrunches in astonishment towards what she can possibly do once she arrives inside of the main office of Noah's school, and confronts the seven year old boy that she's afraid she won't even recognize anymore... What can she possibly say to rectify this? How can she begin to apologize to Suzy Pepper's mother? How can she ever make up for anything that her son has done to this stranger's daughter?_

_ She can't think of a single thing that does not involve placing all of the blame solely on herself. But even still, where can she begin? _

_ She can't – Shelby decides – there is nowhere, no possible explanation that could allow for an outsider to understand so that when the single, anguished statement finally does emit from within the back of her throat, Shelby understands that it is just as pathetic and inexcusable as it sounds inside of her head; no where near satisfactory enough to make up for all of these mistakes – either hers or her sons._

"_Again?"_

* * *

><p>Shelby's feet drag heavily against the tile floor below her.<p>

She leaves a trail of scuff marks behind her in her wake but cannot bring herself to care as she shuffles towards the more desolate corners of the halls, knowing full well how vital her privacy will be in the midst of the phone call that she knows she has to make... As much as she may not want to.

Her heart is pounding violently inside of her throat as her trembling hands dial the familiar number from memory... It embarrasses her to think that she is afraid of speaking to her own child, but after the last interaction that they had had with each other, Shelby figures that she should approach with at least a little bit of hesitancy.

Either way, it is unavoidable.

Shelby knows that her son needs her right now. Noah needs her just as much as Rachel does and right now, her daughter is the only mutual connection that she can think of that can bring them back together once more.

It happened before, it can happen again.

It terrifies Shelby, the thought of what may happen to this family if the last bit of glue that is holding her and her son together should suddenly disappear with all of these loose ends still yet to be tied off.

Time is of the absolute essence. It is why Shelby has to fix this _now_ rather than later, she has waited long enough... Even if the outcome of her ability to save her daughter is entirely devoid of her own control, Shelby knows that the same cannot be said in regards to her son.

She can't let this escalate to the extent that it goes back to the way that it was before. She has to reach out to him before that last fraction of light fades out from inside of his eyes... She has to find a way to be able to read Noah in his entirety, and that has to start with the one person that she has ever known that was ever able to do that...

While Rachel still has the opportunity.

"Yeah?"

When her son finally answers Shelby's phone call on her third attempt at getting through with him, it becomes immediately obvious to her just by the drowsy tone inside of his voice that he had been fast asleep.

"Noah..." Shelby attempts to keep her voice as straight as humanly possible. She takes it as a mark of her success when she practically hears Noah stiffen in response to the mere sound of her voice from all the way across the line...

Inside of her head, Shelby envisions his tall, broad body shooting upwards from beneath flannel sheets that haven't been washed in months; a teenager littered amongst dirty laundry on the floor and a fresh stash of porn and booze underneath his bed that Shelby doesn't even bother trying to clean out anymore... She wonders when the exact moment was that he'd transitioned away from that angelic child with a heart of gold that had at one point grown out of his clothes at least once a week and slept inside of a plastic bed shaped like a tugboat but she can't seem to remember...

"What do you want?" Noah snorts out a response that Shelby knows is meant to sound angry and vengeful, but the mother's expert ear hears the distinct undertones behind it... Noah is scared and he's confused and Shelby knows that nothing that she is about to say to him can ever possibly make any of that better again.

"Noah, I need you to come to the hospital... Right now." Shelby breathes softly, hiccuping gently against her own words despite herself.

"Why?" He snaps back, his voice laden with a sarcasm that Shelby cannot hear right now, but she gives her son the benefit of the doubt because Lord knows how badly he needs it right now. "So you can just get up in my face again and remind me of what a low life fuck up I'm becoming? Or maybe it's just so that you can show the entire world what a loser your son is? Why not try and convince Rachel that I'm just going nowhere while you're at it and than maybe she'll..."

"Your sister had a seizure this morning." She cuts him off in the midst of his lament because the longer that he speaks, the harder it is for her to remember that it was just a matter of months ago that her son had been on top of the world - a college prospect riding on the tails of a full scholarship and a budding career into professional athleticism – and at this point, this is the only fuel that Shelby has left to go by. She holds onto it tightly.

Across the line, Shelby can hear as Noah literally swallows the rest of his words inside of his throat, the harsh contrast between such angry words and a subsequent silence releasing in the form of a small groan that slips forcibly past his lips and into Shelby's ears.

There is a long break in between Shelby's words and Noah's response. For a moment, Shelby wonders whether or not he has hung up on her until the sound of his heavily breaths, increasing gradually in intensity eventually proves her otherwise.

Shelby retains her silence, attempting to offer him the moment that she knows he needs in order to collect his thoughts and come up with the appropriate thing that he can say in response.

"Is this it?" He finally manages; a question that cleaves Shelby's heart into two in her lack of expectation although she manages to force her composure and answer him anyway.

"I think..." Shelby pauses to gather herself, but other than this she projects no outward display of emotion and for that at the very least, she is grateful. "I think that it might just be."

"I'll be right there."

His voice is moving quickly. Shelby can practically hear the gears as they churn inside of his head. She expects his reaction to be violent. He will hang up his phone and he will probably throw it, just like he is so prone to doing. He will throw on the bear minimum amount of clothing that is legal for him to wear – dirty or clean, he won't even care – in his haste, completely disregarding the frigid January Ohio air. He will speed at ridiculously terrifying speeds that Shelby does not even want to think about up the strictly residential streets that will bring him here...

"Sober!" Shelby jolts suddenly. There are a lot of events inside of her children's lives that Shelby knows she cannot control, but _this_ is something that she _can_ – to an extent at least.

She blurts her order, the thought coming into her mind and spewing from her mouth in a matter of milliseconds, catching her son just in time before Noah has the opportunity to hang up the phone.

"What?" He regains his bearings, dragging his ear back into the conversation in order to ensure that he had heard his mother correctly the first time even although he is certain that he did.

Shelby pauses. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and attempts to formulate a response that Noah will comply to, knowing full well the best place to start.

"Noah, I swear to you, you better show up to this hospital stone sober or so help you God, you will not be going to see your sister... I won't have it." The idea pains her, the thought of keeping Noah and Rachel away from each other in a time where Rachel needs her brother the most, but that alone is enough to convince Shelby... Rachel needs _her brother_ right now, not the husk of a man that he is slowly becoming... Shelby can only pray that there is still enough of him left inside to recognize what the right thing will be in his family's most dire time of need. "I promise you, Noah... Don't screw this up."

There is an extended silence on the other end of the phone. For the briefest of seconds, Shelby's heart constricts with the worry that Noah may have hung up on her, that she hadn't managed to get through to him, that he is not nearly as coherent as she had initially believed after all...

She holds her breath until colorful dots begin to dance in front of her eyes, but only releases it when she finally hears his voice once more.

"Okay."

When she rounds the corner into the open hallway once more, Shelby is not in the least bit surprised to find her sister waiting for her with her hands on her hips and a stern expression shining through impossibly strong features. She resembles their mother so entirely that Shelby is forced to do a double take.

"Are you ready to talk to me now?" Krista speaks just as Shelby is beginning to wonder whether or not it will be physically possible for her to make herself invisible and walk straight past her unnoticed.

_ No_... Shelby can't help but to think in response to her sister's inquiry, but still, she nods her head despite herself.

"I was with Rachel this morning and she had a fever..." Shelby explains slowly because going through the motions of these events _again_ is painful enough already without moving quickly through the details. She laces her fingers through her hair in an attempt to plan her words, sparing room for error and misinterpretation; an issue that seems to be a growing problem with her as of late. "It all happened... it was so fast, I blinked and she was bleeding and than all of a sudden she started having... she had this seizure and... and..."

"Oh my God..." Krista cuts short Shelby's failed attempts towards keeping her emotions in check, sparing the mother of having to explain the gut wrenching story that she has been forced to repeat one too many times today already any further. "What happened... is she... where is she... how?"

"There's an infection in one of her kidneys from the dialysis." There are too many questions and not nearly enough answers. Krista struggles to release so much as a single sentence, but the two have been finishing each others words since they were kids. It doesn't make her explanation any easier. "And her immune system is shot from all of the chemo so they're gonna have to... the doctors have to discontinue both for a little while they try to figure something out... until... until she's strong enough to handle treatment again."

"So what do we do now?"

Shelby's reply is silence. She doesn't have the energy to tell her sister that without some sort of divine intervention, Rachel is not _ever_ going to be strong enough to handle treatment again.

"No, don't you tell me that..." Krista registers Shelby's silence exactly how the mother had intended, figuring out for herself that the plan as of now involved nothing beyond the dreaded waiting game. Her face falls with the terror of these consequences and Shelby struggles not to match her expression. "So why the hell are you just standing here accepting all of this? Why aren't you doing anything about it, Shelby? You can't tell me that you are actually willing to sit here and let Rachel die when all of this is entirely preventable! She's being stubborn! That's how Rachel is, but that's how you are too and she is a minor and you're her mother so you have the final say in this! You can have her and Noah in the operating room _tonight_!"

"Krista..." Shelby shakes her head. She is too exhausted to remind her sister that this is a path that she has already been down – and failed – once before already.

"No." Krista shakes her head against an end that she cannot tolerate in her frustrating inability to tolerate absolutely _anything_ that does not go her way... Especially something like this. "I have a couple of friends up in the medical department at my office. John owes me a favor anyway, I did his taxes last season, it was a mess... He can be here in a couple of hours tops to start sorting this whole thing out."

"Krista, you're rambling." Shelby sighs heavily. This entire ordeal is already hard enough as it is without her sister's added input which, as much as Shelby hated to admit it, she knew would make absolutely no difference.

"Excuse me for trying to save my niece's life!" Her tone is accusatory but it is a mere product of frustration. Her face softens apologetically the second that the words are out of her mouth and Shelby tries her hardest not to take it too personally.

"You can call up the Queen of England herself to plead this case for us, Krista." Shelby shakes her head, indicating the lost cause for what she already knows it to be. "It won't work. Rachel is sixteen years old... She is old enough to make her opinion heard and Lord knows, Rachel will _always_ make her opinion heard."

"I can't believe this." Krista stares blankly through Shelby as though she is just seeing her sister for the first time, as if she doesn't even know who she is looking at anymore.

"What the hell do you want me to do?" Shelby's voice projects loudly, echoing angrily down the length of the hallway so that a handful of nurses shuffling to and from their various tasks turn only briefly before looking immediately away as though embarrassed to be caught in the midst of a fight between family. "I'm sitting here watching my sixteen year old daughter die with absolutely nothing that I can do about it and look where it's gotten me... Rachel thinks I'm a coward and Noah hates me."

"Rachel doesn't think you're a coward." Krista attempts to reject Shelby's sentiments, but Shelby cannot help but notice that she made no move to correct her claim that her son hated her.

"I need to start thinking more in terms of them and not just myself anymore." Shelby admits aloud, a thought that she has secretly known this entire time but has yet to find a means to project it out loud.

"Not wanting Rachel to die isn't just thinking about yourself, Shelby."

"Yes it is." A rush of memories flood into her senses, contradicting everything that Krista had said and making it that much easier for Shelby to reject it. It was Rachel's claim that she does not want to risk everything that Noah has worked for only to ensure an unpredictable future. It was Noah falling apart at the seams, a little bit further every day... "Rachel is right. She has always been right about everything and I think... I really think that I'm gonna lose her, Krista."

Her head pounds with the pressure of her words; dark eyes, permanently reddened from her chronic tears watering all over again.

"Don't say that." Krista insists, her posture growing defensive as she places a hand meant to be comforting against her sister's upper arm and immediately passes off Shelby's unusual lack of a fiery passion as a complete depletion of emotion finally taking its toll on the grieving mother.

"I have to say it!" Shelby backs away from her sister's touch, standing firm in her insistencies that her words are much, much more than a product of exhaustion and overload. "Because if it actually happens, I _need_ to be ready for it."

"Will you ever be ready for it?" Krista asks truthfully, an appropriate question that Shelby feels as though she has been asking herself for her entire life.

"I need to try something." Shelby shrugs. "Because the way that I've been doing things clearly isn't working anymore and I can't let Rachel... I _won't _let Rachel go believing that her mother is a selfish coward while she is standing here being so strong."

Shelby breathes heavily. Her eyes close as she stamps her foot against the ground one final time as though to reiterate the finality of the decision slowly formulating inside of her brain – as difficult a decision as it may be.

"I need to say it because I don't know what else to do anymore."

* * *

><p><em>Her grip on Noah's thin upper arm tightens almost painfully as she drags her young son from his elementary school into her car in the parking lot, parked inside of a handicapped space that she didn't even bother to move from in a flash of rage that reminded her that her son may very well be handicapped by the time she got through with him.<em>

_ She's fuming but it is a silent anger that both her as well as Noah understands is much more dangerous than those days where she only yells... _

_ Shelby has not spoke a single word since she had directed Noah outside of the principal's office. She had taken a verbal berating from the man; subtle hints that Shelby perceived as a question towards her quality of parenthood and the possibility that seeking further assistance may be best in Noah's particular case._

_She remembers the first time that she had lectured her son regarding her lack of tolerance towards violence vividly. _

_It had been a cold afternoon in January, the day that he had been sent home from school for fighting with David Karofsky after the boy had begun to poke fun of Rachel who was at the time, just beginning to experience the side effects of chemotherapy that they were all so familiar with now._

_ It would be just a one time thing, Shelby had convinced herself. The circumstances were understandable – not tolerable, but understandable - she'd justified. And Noah... well Noah had appeared genuinely apologetic for his actions._

_ Now, Shelby is left to wonder whether or not she should have been stricter with him; perhaps given him more firm a punishment than a stern talking to and a life lesson that he clearly did not hold close. _

_ She remembers that she hadn't even told her husband of the incident, at the time believing that she could easily handle her son herself..._

_Apparently not. _

"_I'm very disappointed in how you behaved today, Noah." Shelby tells him only after she is secured in the driver's seat and Noah in his booster in the back. _

_ Noah doesn't answer her. Shelby stares at him through the rear view mirror, watching as he crosses his arms in a huff and stares strategically towards the scenery out of his window... Anywhere but at her. _

_ "This behavior has got to stop. You're growing up now, Noah and things like this... they're not going to be tolerated anymore. When you get back to your grandparent's house, you are going to go straight to your room and you are going to sit there and think about what you did today and why it was wrong." Shelby attempts to coax a response out of the boy but he stands stubborn in his silence. _

_ With a sigh of defeat, the exhausted mother kick starts her car into drive and rolls slowly forwards, distinctly aware of the fact that driving straight to her parents' house – where Noah has been spending the majority of his time with Shelby in the hospital so much – is probably not helping the problem. _

"_Like you would know about it anyway..."_

_It has been so long since either mother or son had last spoken that Shelby almost forgets what it is that Noah is responding to... Her response is delayed; eyes widening as her foot slips against the break, the car screeching to a halt directly in front of their destination so that Shelby is left free to turn the entirety of her body around in her seat and stare directly towards Noah with her eyebrows so high that they are almost lost inside of her hairline. _

_ "Excuse me?" She asks him to repeat himself not because she hadn't heard him, but because she is in a forgiving mood and is willing to give Noah an opportunity to take back everything that he had just said._

_ "You're always so busy with Rachel that you never even bother to come and see me anymore!" He screams at her, flailing his tiny limbs in a passionate fury in an effort to defend his words, built inside of his chest for who knows how long, spilling freely now that the opportunity has finally arose. "You wouldn't even know if I went to my room or not because as soon as you drop me off, you're just gonna go right back to the hospital to sit with stupid Rachel." _

_ "First of all, you watch your language, young man. Second, I know exactly what you are doing at all times so don't you dare get smart with me. Both me and your grandparents are going to know that you are being punished today because violence is never, ever tolerated in this family, do you hear me?" Shelby thrusts her index finger into his face as a firm reminder of something that even she knows isn't entirely truthful, "And third, you know that your sister is very sick. She will be better soon, and when she is things will go back to normal, but for the time being we need to work together as a family here."_

_ "Whatever..." Noah mutters as he rolls his eyes in such a fashion that he practically transforms into a teenager right in front of Shelby's eyes, throwing her off slightly so that she retreats just long enough to give Noah the edge that he needs to unbuckle himself and slide out of the backseat of her car._

_ "I'll be back for dinner." Shelby forces herself together once more as she shouts towards him from the driver's seat. "And then me and you will have a much longer talk about all of this."_

_ He turns to face her and for the first time that Shelby can remember in ever looking at her son, there is a fire burning behind his eyes that is directed towards her in its entirety... Shelby wishes that she can remember exactly when those soft, brown eyes became __engorged with such a flame but the truth is, she has been so absent in these past couple of weeks she knows she will never be able to pinpoint an exact moment. _

"_I hate you."_

_His words spark like a bolt of lightening straight through Shelby's head, cracking into her skull before traveling down the length of her spine, rendering her paralyzed as Noah turns back away from her and clamors angrily up the path, running at a full sprint inside of the house that Shelby knows just as much as he does is not his home. _

_ She's physically trembling. _

_ Shelby has never been the victim of such harsh words – even as a Broadway star where criticism was just as abundant as oxygen – especially from her own children._

_ She is too shocked to even cry as she watches her son disappear through the front door in a fit of understandable rage and slowly begins to wonder whether being ignored by your mother hurts as badly as your son looking you directly in the eye and telling you that he hates you._

* * *

><p>When Shelby finally does get the opportunity to see Rachel again for the first time since their abrupt departure from one another, she is not entirely sure that she is ready to.<p>

Experience has her fidgety. Shelby fears her inability to handle another experience like the last so that when she sits herself down at Rachel's beside, curled up inside of a ball with eyes that are red, yet dry at the same time, she does so at a safe distance.

Shelby hums gently, her melodic, well-trained voice filtering heavily through the thick air in an effort to drown out the mechanical hum of machines, working desperately to keep her daughter alive.

She is not entirely certain what it is that she's doing, Shelby can only guess that she simply needs something, _anything_ to fill up all of this empty space... As it is, she is willing to sing the whole night through as long as it means keeping Rachel sleeping soundly at her side.

It's only after Rachel begins to shiver with cold, even in her unconscious that Shelby springs to her feet; dazed in her exhaustion, yet at the same time dedicated to the cause of keeping Rachel as comfortable as humanly possible.

Unraveling her own blanket from around her shoulders, Shelby drags it across Rachel's body, lifting it high up onto her shoulders and beneath her chin, tucking it beneath her body with slow, organized motions that ensure a perfect crease until every inch of her daughter's body is covered.

"Rachel..." Shelby makes an attempt towards pulling her daughter back into coherence, but there is no response. Her eyes are not just closed, her face is relaxed and neutral. It is a pattern that Shelby recognizes immediately. Lately it seems as though Rachel has begun to dream less while sleeping more.

She leans further forwards. Rachel's body twitches in her sleep but beyond that there is nothing. Shelby knows that she should have expected this. Rachel's fingers have been brushing along the skyline her entire life... Shelby is just now starting to think that maybe it was selfish of her to warn her daughter not to jump so high when really, she knows that it is her job to encourage her to only leap further.

"Mom..."

Shelby jumps slightly at the first noise that her ears have consciously registered in hours. For a brief second, she foolishly manages to convince herself that Rachel is finally responding to her most desperate of beckoning calls before her dreary mind manages to recognize the deep undertones that are instead indicative of her son.

She turns. Noah is standing inside of the doorway. His eyes are red and swollen but Shelby can tell immediately that this is not a product of a brash binge on drugs or alcohol...

He has been crying.

It doesn't go over Shelby's head, the reminder that it has been nearly three hours since she had placed that phone call requesting Noah's presence at the hospital... She had almost given up hope of his coming at all but for once is actually glad that he has managed to prove her wrong.

"What happened?"

She stands taller instinctively, her spine stiffening as she struggles to procure an answer that can accurately explain to Noah what exactly has happened... The truth is that she isn't even entirely certain herself.

Her silence lingers for just a fraction of a second too long. Shelby tumbles over her own words, but ultimately can think of nothing. Her son is sent into an immediate panic mode. Shelby blinks and he is breaking down into angry tears right in front of her.

Shelby does not hesitate. Despite the dense tension layered thickly in between them, her unconditional duties as a mother allow her to immediately storm through the fog without a moment's hesitation.

When she wraps her son tightly inside of her arms, even she is surprised when he doesn't immediately pull away from her but instead sinks even further into her chest, allowing her to hold him as he reciprocates the binding embrace.

"I'm sorry..." He mutters into her shoulder but his face is buried so deeply inside of her own skin that Shelby can barely hear him. "I'm so sorry, mom..."

"It's okay Noah, it's okay..." She makes an attempt towards soothing him like she hasn't done since he was a child. Her hand reaches up, threading through the back of his hair holding him even closer... "It's okay..."

Shelby tapers off in her repetitive sentiments. She cannot seem to find her words. She _wants_ to believe that Noah already knows that whenever he may fall, she will continue to love him all the same but at the same time she understands that this may be harder for him to feel than it is for her to know.

"Has she been awake at all?" Eventually, Noah pulls away from his mother with no mentions towards the idea that he has just been crying inside of her arms, wiping quickly at the undersides of his eyes as if to remove all evidence.

"Not yet..." Shelby's eyes follow her son's movements carefully as he drags his feet slowly towards Rachel's bedside, his eyes lingering over her prone form, assessing her from her head down to her very feet... No matter how much he soaks it all in, he can't seem to process the situation in its entirety.

"Rachel..." He makes no move to indicate that he has heard his mother, nudging his sister's shoulder sharply, adamant in his projection of desire to speak with her. Shelby can tell just by the way his voice is shaking, how badly he is truly trying to suppress her emotions simply for Rachel's sake. "Rachel, please wake up... I swear to you, I don't need football. I don't need a stupid scholarship or to go to college at all... I don't need those drugs... I don't _want_ those drugs... The only thing that I need is for our family to stay together; me you and mom... Please don't do this to us."

He is bargaining. With a pang, Shelby recognizes it as a distinct stage of grief that it seems their family has been moving through their entire lives... Shelby can only hope that this is a sign that Noah is transitioning away from whatever stage included the sub-category of his self-medicating...

_ Anger_... Shelby remembers, comes directly before bargaining... As it is, it has not gone unnoticed that Noah has actually included her inside of his serene portrait of a family kept together.

"That's... bullshit..."

They are the first words out of Rachel's mouth since Shelby had experienced the terror of watching her fall inside of a fitful unconscious. It is enough to leave Shelby perking instantly, the joy produced by an opportunity just to hear her daughter's voice again swallowing the mother's natural instinct to remind Rachel to watch her language.

"No," Noah shakes his head through a laugh that powers through otherwise moist eyes... Even Shelby is finding it much easier to suppress her grief now that Rachel is awake and able to catch every moment of it. "I promise that it isn't."

"No Noah..." Rachel forces a strength behind her voice despite how badly Shelby can tell she is struggling to so much as breathe. "You _need_ to get out of here... go to college... Football is the only way... There's so much more inside of you than a... than a Lima Loser... You've sacrificed enough for me."

"That's what family is about isn't it?" Noah asks her, "Sacrifice?"

"_Exactly..."_

A single word has Noah's face falling all over again as his remaining words are swept straight from his mouth... He does not possess the capacity for a follow up. Shelby watches as the frustration towards his sister's actions builds slowly inside of his fiery eyes.

"Why are you being so persistent?" Aggression seeps from Noah's voice. He cannot seem to grasp an understanding of Rachel's intentions, but than again Shelby cannot pretend as though she does entirely either.

"Because you already saved my life once." Rachel smirks upwards, the motion of her mouth only emphasizing the lines of defeat outlined across her face.

"Yeah, but you saved my life _twice_... I owe you one." Noah nods so that Shelby can tell in an instant that he is referring to his tendencies to fall inside of the trap that was his own head; the last time as well as today... They are at least united in their gratitude that Noah had not fallen so far down that he could not find a way to pull himself back up.

"The pills?" Rachel perks as she asks, clearly interpreting Noah's words in the same manner that Shelby has, searching for the confirmation that will prove her theory true.

"Flushed down the toilet." He nods firmly as if hoping that his words will have any say on how Rachel makes her decision regarding this transplant. "All of them."

"Good." She nods, relaxing back into her mattress only upon being satisfied that her brother is out of the immediate path of harm's way... Her face remains skews with concern. She knows as well as the rest of them how prone Noah is to getting lost, how she seems to be the only person who can find him again. She is as afraid as Shelby is of what will happen to him if she goes... She is afraid for all of them. "Keep hanging on Noah, alright?"

"I will..." He makes the choking promise as he reaches over Rachel's bed and grabs onto her hand, squeezing it as tightly as he can without risking hurting her, "That's why I'm gonna keep asking you to do the same thing every day until you stop being stubborn and take my damn kidney."

"Or every day until I kick it." She responds to his determination with a laugh, but Rachel's words has Shelby's blood turning to ice inside of her veins. Judging on the expression on Noah's face, his body has reacted very similarly.

"Don't say that..."

"You have to forgive me eventually, you know..." Rachel coughs slightly, her body shifting so that Shelby can't help but notice her attempts to get closer towards the contact that her brother has provided between the two of them. She watches her two children interact and wishes more than anything that she could freeze this moment and keep them together forever.

"Forgive you for what?"

"You've been mad at dad for twelve years because of what he did, Noah..." Shelby swallows subconsciously towards Rachel's unexpected mentioning of the father that was so rarely discussed except for in the most desperate of times such as these. "I don't want you to be mad at me too..."

"I'll never be mad at you, Rachel." He shakes his head so vigorously back and forth that it makes even Shelby's head hurt. "But that doesn't mean that I'll understand..."

"You will one day." Her body tenses suddenly in a flash of pain that has a groan escaping through parted lips and leaves Noah flinching backwards for fear that he had been the one to hurt her.

Her face contorts into a grimace as Noah forces himself forwards once more, dedicated to keeping his post at his sister's side as Shelby watches his undeniable love towards a sister that had given him everything slowly transform him back into the man that he was always meant to be.

"Take care of mom..." Shelby forces her eyes away in the understanding that she will not be able to keep herself composed for too much longer should she continue watching what is starting to sound very much like Rachel's last rites.

"I will..." Through the corners of her eyes, Shelby watches as Noah wipes the tears from his own eyes, but he powers forwards knowing full well that Rachel is not the type of person who would ever want somebody lingering in their sadness on account of her... Their current predicament allows them all to understand that Rachel is by no means the selfish type. Rachel is a doer, she is a go-getter, she has an uncanny ability to see potential in people that not even they see in themselves. "I promise that I will."

"We are our only chance in the world, Noah."

Rachel smiles as she closes her eyes except this time, they do not open again as Noah raises a confused eyebrow and attempts to pull an explanation from his sleeping sister; a sudden exhaustion that Shelby has since learned tends to come hand in hand with the act of dying.

"What does that even mean?" He directs the question towards her, but she does not provide an answer beyond a single shake of her head that guides her into the depths of unconscious.

Noah takes a slow, deep breath before he slowly lowers Rachel's hand back down against the mattress and turns towards his mother, looking her directly in the eye with an expression of drained emotion, shaking his head slowly towards Shelby who watches from afar, unable to do much beyond contort her face into the most sympathetic expression of understanding that she can muster.

There is nothing more for them to do but wait for everything that they cannot believe they have lost...

But Shelby doesn't cry, she knows that right now, she _cannot_ cry...

She has asked Rachel to be strong for her for the girl's entire life. Now, it is _her_ turn to be strong for Rachel.

* * *

><p>It's late.<p>

It is the kind of late where the sun is just barely peaking up through the blinds in the window, and that is _not_ because it is on its way down...

Noah sits firmly at Rachel's bedside and for his mere presence alone, Shelby is grateful... His feet are bare, propped up against the edge of Rachel's bed as if in an attempt to form some kind of human chain that may by some grace keep his sister down here with the rest of them. His head is tilted so far over the back of the chair that Shelby wonders how it is possible that he can comfortably breathe although the noisy snores that emit from his mouth every time he inahles informs Shelby that he is not having any problems in that department.

Shelby stares intriguingly. She can't seem to take her eyes off of the scene before her, even as her eyes slowly begin to burn from staring ahead for so long... Not even she is certain when the last time she blinked was.

"Mom?" The sound is soft but the room is so quiet anyway that Shelby doens't miss so much as a beat.

Her body cranes naturally towards the sound of her daughter's voice, her muscles – painfully stiff from hours without movement – protesting violently with a painful groan that Shelby forces herself to ignore.

"What do you need honey?" She caters to Rachel's every need immediately, her palm grazing gently across the top of the girl's forehead as a dual means of providing comfort while simultaneously checking to see whether or not the fever currently ravishing her body has gone down at all...

Disappointment entertwines its way inside of her motions when she finds that it has not although Shelby cannot pretend that she is surprised.

"I don't feel so good." Her words slip through pale, cracked lips in a breath of air that practically dissipates in its entirety before it so much as has the time to reach Shelby's ears.

She sounds like a child again, but Shelby knows that it has been a long time since she possessed the capacity to heal a wound with something as simple as a kiss and a Bandaid.

On most days it feels like a lifetime.

"I know you don't honey. I'm so, so sorry that I can't make it all better for you..." Shelby offers her most heartfelt of apologies knowing full well that the only thing that she can truly do to physically alleviate her daughter's pain is to reach over Rachel's miniscule body and grasp at the self administered morphine pump, pressing against the plunger as many times as the machine will allow.

If there was a button that would allow her to trade places with Rachel, Shelby would press it in a heartbeat.

Rachel's response is a lengthy groan produced as a low growl that sends shudders through the length of her body for fear that it is a product of Rachel projecting her disappointment towards her mother's inability to protect her like a mother always should.

"Are you okay?" Shelby asks the question out of necessity but she already knows that the answer is going to be no, even if Rachel doesn't say it.

"I don't feel so good." Rachel's voice is airy as she repeats her original sentiments. Shelby can barely even recognize it anymore... The girl that could project so much confidence with a single tone, the girl with a voice that could normally silence a room with a single note can barely so much as speak.

"Just wait for the medicine to kick in Rachel... You'll feel better soon." Shelby chooses to speak in projection of the short term solution because the future is simply too painful for her to be thinking about right now.

"Are you mad at me, mom?" Rachel whispers and for a moment, Shelby's head cocks to the side in her confusion, her eyebros raising into her hairline as she wonders whether or not Rachel is speaking with any sense left inside of her at all or if the morphine has forced her into a whole other realm in her entirety.

"For what?" Shelby smiles gently at Rachel's drug-induced delirium as she slowly begins to wonder what it is that is going on inside of her daughter's head, what kind of scenario that she may be concocting inside of her elaborate imagination that she has deemed warranting of an apolgy when really, it should be Shelby that is apologizing to her.

"For giving up." The comment is a kick to the gut. Shelby is swept back by the force of all of the wind being knocked from her lungs as she forces herself to stop from reacting physically to the feeling of her heart plummeting down into her knees.

"Rachel..." Shelby swallows heavily but is forced to pause in her uncertainty as she watches a stray eyelash dangle before falling onto her daughter's taut cheek... It is one of the last strands of hair left on her body that Rachel has been clinging to in these past couple of weeks and its brushed away by nothing more than a passing wind... just like everything else. When Shelby reaches gently upward with her thumb to sweep it away she can't help but to notice that Rachel's eyes are damp. "You are the bravest girl that I have ever known. I wish that I could be as brave as you are... I'm so very proud of you honey, and I always will be."

"You're not... mad?" She asks timidly and it kills Shelby that her most recent behavior sparking from a fierce determination to keep Rachel alive has not allowed her to believe that she is the futhest thing from mad humanly possible at her daughter.

"No," Shelby speaks with a strategic confidence, more prepared this time around for the answer that Shelby knows Rachel needs to hear. "I could never be mad at you... I love you way too much."

"You'll stay with me?" Rachel puts all of her effort into craning her neck to look up at her mother, her eyes craving an answer as though she ever believed that it could be anything other than a distinct _yes_.

"Always." Shelby flashes her a quick smile but the confidence does not resonate with anything that she is feeling on the inside. She is a master at putting up fronts and the roll of mother is the most important that she has ever been selected to play.

"I don't... I don't know how much longer I can do it, mom." Rachel's opennes transforms into a free canvas by which she grows comfortable to speak, confessions rolling off of her tongue much faster than anything that Shelby can possibly keep up with.

"That's okay, sweetie..." Shelby forces her words as she sucks in a tight breath. Her voice is miraculously high pitched, even for her... She just hopes that Rachel doesn't notice the difference. She hopes that Rachel won't hear that desperate tone pounding against the back of her head, hammering as loudly as it can as it silently pleads – _please don't go_. "I know that you fought hard, Rachel... It's okay. I'm not mad."

"It's okay to die?" Rachel asks for permission towards something completely beyond either of their control because she was _always_ the one of her two children that could never do anything unless her mother told her that it was okay first. For that reason alone, Shelby is hesitant to answer, but these thoughts are selfish and Shelby has already vowed to keep Rachel and Noah first...

Whatever it takes.

"It's okay to die." Shelby chokes on her own words. The singe against her tongue like an acid and come alongside an influx of tears that leave her feeling as though she is drowning but true to her word, she never allows a single one to fall... While her insides are screaming, her outside is a projection of picturesque confidence that Shelby knows her daughter needs now more than ever.

"Hey mom..." Rachel yawns. Her muscles contract slightly from her position against the mattress before relaxing once more. It is as comfortable as Rachel has been in a long time and Shelby is certain of it.

"Yeah?" Shelby asks her, her thumb rubbing short, rhythmic circles against the top of Rachel's hand as her remaining fingers curl beneath the girl's frail wrist, desperate to never let go of that soft, fluttering pulse beneath her touch that she is still astonished – even after all of these years – she took part in creating.

"Thank you." The ghost of a smile appears at the corners of Rachel's lips and Shelby freezes out of the hope that maybe if she stands completely still, time will follow n her lead.

"No," Shelby shakes her head against her daughter's gratitude, but by the time the tears have cleared from her throat long enough to allow her to speak, Rachel's eyes are closed once more, already fallen inside of a land of sleep much too far away to hear her mother.

Shelby falls back inside of her chair, wrapping herself into a cocoon within her blankets before burying her face inside of the thick blankets because however far away Rachel may be right now, she is still terrified of the idea of either of her children hearing her cry.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>Gleesam<strong>** – Thank you so much for reviewing! Everything is going to come together in the next chapter so I do know how I'm going to end this story and all I'm saying is that I'm not guaranting a happy ending but at the same time I am still planning a few twists and turns along the way. Losing Rachel would definitely be a huge blow for Shelby and Noah. They're having a tough enough time as it is with her still around so we'll see what happens. Thanks again for the review!**

**Just Me**** – Thank you so much! The transition was slow, but seeing how everything is effecting Noah combined with Rachel's health going down hill faster than she can keep up with has forced her into an active acceptance that allows her to confront everything. If she had just ignored everything, it would have all just ended in an explosive catastrophy and I like to think that Shelby's personality is much to strong to have allowed that to happen. Also, now that she has Noah back for the time being there is still going to be a lot more decisions about all of their futures for them to make as a family which will come in the next chapter... I actually got the idea about the wedding from when I worked at Children's Hospital up in Boston. There was a little girl I worked with who's Make a Wish was to have a wedding and she ended up "marrying" a hockey player from the Bruins who was there to visit that day. It was adorable :) Thanks for the review!**

**Guest**** – Thank you so much for your kind words! Sorry to keep you in tears but I have to say that there may be more to come! A lot of people have ****actually been saying that they feel as though Rachel should die at the end and I can definitely see where they're coming from (also without trying to sound mean and heartless :) ) I fiddled around with a couple of different ideas on how to end this story but there was one in particular that ultimately felt right so I hope it satisfies!**

**Seacat03**** – Thank you!**

**TheCdKnight**** – I'm glad to hear that you can't guess the ending! (Sorry if that came out the wrong way haha) I like to keep people hanging like that. Thank you so much for all of your kind words and for reviewing it is beyond appreciated! **

**Miriami**** – I'm sorry to keep killing you! These last couple of chapters have actually been pretty difficult for me to write because like you said, losing a child is an indescribable experience that I have thankfully never even come close to so I'm glad to see that it is translating well. I'm glad you liked the format, I was writing it as two separate chapters (but at the same time) and once I started noticing such the extremes between them, both similarities and differences I figured that sticking them into one would be a bit more impactful. The last scene in this chapter was actually the one that I had planned out first (sometimes I have a tendency of getting a little ahead of myself and start writing the end before I even write the beginning) but while I was trying to get a feel for writing Shelby's character I always got the impression that her personality was the type that she would hold off against reality until it was slapping her directly in the face and that would pretty much force her to turn around in her actions completely and sacrifice so much of what she wanted and believed in for the sake of her kids. Once again, as always thank you for your beautiful reviews!**

**Stee79**** – You will find out all of my plans in the next chapter! **


	48. Rachel Corcoran - January 2012 (Part I)

**Hello everybody! Here is my quick present to you for the holidays. With that said, I am off to Ireland a little today to spend Christmas with my family so I will see all of you after the holidays!**

**Hope you all enjoy and have a safe New Years!**

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran –<strong> January 2012  
><em>(Part I)<em>

* * *

><p>Against all odds, Rachel's fever begins to break by the next afternoon.<p>

Everybody had been so expectant of the worst that when Rachel so much as opens her eyes the next morning, it is cause enough for celebration... When she opens her eyes the next morning with a temperature that has dipped down just below one hundred, they are ecstatic...

Mostly, Rachel is just happy for an opportunity to see another day.

Where her mother and brother, aunt, grandparents and friends are all sensing a renewed sense of hope in the revelation, Rachel sees only a chance to tie loose ends, to say the goodbye's that she so feared she would never have the opportunity to make...

Rachel identifies a second chance but this is only in the shortest term of ideals.

This morning, Rachel's head is all over the place, buzzing about frantically as though her brain is already trying to make up for all of the lost time that it will endure... Every couple of minutes her body seizes up in pain, a personal revolt against Rachel's insistencies upon ingesting as few pain killers as humanly possible in order to keep her mind free and clear to focus on the more immediate task at hand which she knows will require the utmost conscious of efforts...

She wants to remember everything that she can while she still _can_.

But her conscience and her body do not seem to want to cooperate and the sudden loss of control leaves Rachel weary as she drifts back and forth slowly between the land of the living and a realm far beyond anything that she can properly comprehend just yet... Even though she is wide awake Rachel feels dazed, almost as though she is floating inside of an alternate universe, trapped somewhere between the conscious world and that by which she has yet to fully discover.

She lays stiff as a board, completely still inside of her bed for fear of the slightest motion bearing unimaginable pain down upon her. But not even that works... An agony spreads inside of her, slowly moving from the tips of her toes up through her very core leaving her grimacing with a low groan that escapes involuntarily from her lips in response.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question is distant. It takes Rachel a moment to place it as her eyes roll open and upwards to focus in upon her brother, hovering continuously above her in his dedicated vigil, committed to the promise that he had made to stay sober and at her side for as long as he had to.

Rachel forces herself to smile gently in response, but the motion does not last as she studies the concern deep down inside of her brother's eyes... Noah had lost track of himself some time ago – the concept is not distant – but ultimately he had managed to find out who he was once more... Noah had made the promise to her never to lose himself ever again... Both siblings find it miraculous that Rachel's worst has the tendency to bring out the best in him.

She can barely manage her answer before her exhausted eyes are closing on their own accord once more... Rachel has been drifting into and out of consciousness all morning long, stirring in her sleep every once in a while, sometimes even speaking before ultimately falling into the trap of unconscious once more...

Even she can tell that she already has one foot on the other side.

This time when her eyes drift shut, it is to an immediate, unsettling image... She is inside of a graveyard. It looks immediately familiar although it takes her a moment to recognize it as the same one that her father is buried inside of; it has been years since Rachel had been to visit, after all.

There isn't a terribly large number of people present... Rachel spots her mother quickly, draped in all black and trembling at the knees despite her best attempts towards feigning stability... Noah stands directly besides her, looking stunningly sharp in a pressed black suit although his eyes are sad and determinedly fixated at the freshly dug earth beneath his feet.

The rest are all present out of obligation... Rachel recognizes her aunt behind Shelby, flanked on either side by her grandparents... Even her Uncle Ephraim has managed to make the trip alongside his wife and three children... The realization of the seriousness of the situation all comes together in the presence of her mother's eldest brother... Her Uncle Ephraim and his family are the people that Rachel only sees on the rare holiday that he doesn't have to work or in times of unspeakable tragedy; she can only assume that a funeral can be classified as both...

It is only after she places a few stray members of the glee club cramped uncomfortably alongside the back of the unit, looking as though they would rather be anywhere but here that Rachel identifies the event as her own... Of course, she can not see herself. The only thing that is left of her by now is a shell inside of a thick wooden frame lowering slowly inside of the ground as people toss flowers to meet her at the bottom as if this will make a difference in the fact that she is gone...

A piece of her wonders briefly whether or not she will find the opportunity to see her father again... An even larger piece of her wonders whether or not she even wants to and suddenly, her thoughts are infiltrated with a littering of questions whose answers seem impossible.

But she isn't allowed to linger.

Terrified of what is to follow, Rachel comes back into consciousness with a rush of air that is so sharp and so sudden that it gets stuck deep down in the very pit of her chest.

Her eyes snap wide as she chokes on absolutely nothing more than a thick balloon of pure oxygen, her body turning naturally on its side, curling into the fetal position as the pain radiating up the length of her spine reminds her that despite her dream, she is far from dead...

For now.

"Noah..." She calls miserably after the brother that she knows _had_ been by her side in the moment that her eyes had closed, but not even she can be certain of how long she had been asleep for... All of these hours, the minutes and seconds, they have all tended to begin meshing all together in these last couple of days...

Her voice is raspy and forced through short, gasping breaths but she needs _somebody _to anchor a confidence inside of an otherwise uncertainty and there wasn't a human being in this world that she trusted more than her brother.

"Shit, Rae... are you alright?" He is by her side in an instant, leaping instinctively to his feet in his display of surprise towards Rachel's rude awakening... His features come slowly into focus, but this time she does not see him adorned in the suit and tie that she had envisioned within her dream state, but the ratty old pair of dirty sweats that he had been living inside of in these past twenty four hours... "Do you want me to go get mom?"

"I need you... do me... a favor..." She breathes in airy fragments, downright ignoring his questions as Noah's muscles tense immediately in preparation to fulfill her desires, even if it means running to the edges of the universe and back.

"Sure..." He nods slowly; attentive and prepared, hoping for the best while habit reminds him to expect nothing less than the very worst.

"Can you make sure that people come to my funeral?" Rachel forces her voice to clear despite the physical pain that the seemingly simple motion causes... Noah falters visible. Even Rachel can sense the shift in the air patterns before them as the tension gathers thicker with each passing second.

She feels badly for catching him so off guard but Rachel is far too aware of the idea that she is dying to allow this to slip past them unnoticed.

"Noah..." He stays quiet for so long that eventually, Rachel is forced to prompt him.

"People will come, Rachel..." He finally sighs with a forced tone of disinterest, his voice deepening alongside the indication that he does not want to talk about this right now despite the fact that the choice isn't really one that either of them are free to make. "I'll be there... and mom..."

"You guys... don't count." Rachel shakes her head with a firm persistence, "You _have _to come... I'm talking about real people."

"What, I'm not a real person now?" He flashes her his infamous grin, practically forcing Rachel to swallow her response as she purposefully slows the conversation in a silent indication of just how nice it is to see him smiling again...

When she retains her silence, Noah's smile gradually falters into stone. His eyes drop alongside his expression as his head bobs slowly in an indication that he has accurately interpreted Rachel's quiet as a desire for him to produce a true answer that she will feel comfortable in carrying tightly alongside her.

He breathes deep, audibly as his fingers brush through bushy hair that he so desperately needs to cut in a characteristic nervous habit that Rachel has long since learned he had inherited from their mother to the exact... Back and forth and back and forth his ministrations take him until finally, he is confident in himself enough to match her eyes once more.

"I'll make sure that people come, Rae," He assures her. "Hell, I'll even drag them there myself if I have to."

"Thank you..." She breathes in her response, comforted in her belief that Noah truly would be willing to resort to physical violence in order to procure guests and mourners if that is what he had to do in order to keep his promise to his sister, although silently Rachel hopes for Noah's sake that things will be much easier than that...

Then again, the Corcoran's always did have a thing for theatrics.

"Do you think that I can ask you a question?" He asks after a handful of seconds of comfortable silence, turning back onto her initial request; a favor for a favor...

"Mhm..." She nods timidly, almost afraid of what he is going to ask, the possibilities all being much too vast for her to narrow into one specific point...

"Why is all of this so easy for you?" She sneaks a single, bleary eye open and turns her head towards her brother... The truth is, she had never thought about her predicament in this way and now that the consideration has been placed, not even she is entirely certain of the answer... It had _never _been easy. Rachel thought that out of everything, this was the most obvious point of all. "I mean... look at you, Rach; look at this... You do know that all of this is still entirely avoidable, right?"

"People keep telling me that..." Rachel shakes her head slowly but there remains the hint of a smile written upon her face so that Noah isn't entirely certain how to perceive the response. He cannot be sure if she is angry at him for even asking or if she is simply so far away at this point that she just doesn't even care anymore.

He is willing to bet on the latter although he knows that he would never admit to this out loud.

"You mean mom keeps asking you that?"

"I thought that was... implied..." Rachel shrugs in the reminder that the only people that actually do ever make their way through this hospital to come visit her is him and their mother, occasionally their aunt and grandparents and sometimes Quinn, who Noah knows is in no position to be anything but supportive regarding Rachel's decisions...

"That's because we know you, Rach..." His voice begins to rise, indicative of a building lack of understanding bubbling inside of his gut and projecting behind a tone that is almost desperate.

"I already told mom, Noah..."

"That you're more afraid of living than you are of dying, I know..." He paraphrases her actual words with a harshness behind his voice that he does not particularly mean... The two siblings silence almost immediately. With a sigh, Noah mentally slaps himself for his inability of possessing any morsel of self control... "I'm sorry, it's just... I tend to learn a lot when me and mom are actually talking to each other, I guess..."

"I guess that's one way of putting things..." Rachel ignores his explanation but still, she quiets... That was not the way that she would ever word her particular predicament but then again, the more she things about it, the more it seems to be the most accurate thing that she has heard in a long time.

"Fine..." Noah reasons with his sister's need for more sensitive terms, displaying his willingness towards compromise in a struggle to provide the euphemisms that Rachel so desires. "You're afraid that the cancer will only keep coming back."

"I don't think that that's entirely unreasonable." Rachel pleads her case as her fingers begin to fidget against the threaded blanket draped across her matchstick thin body... Her eyes glance upwards every couple of seconds. Briefly, she watches as Noah's mouth opens in a silent expression of words before closing once more.

He doesn't have a response.

Sure, he _wants_ to tell her that this is in fact just about the most unreasonable thing that he has ever heard of. Yes, he _wants_ to tell her that she is just being crazy. But the more that Noah thinks about it, the more he understands that it is impossible for him to put himself in Rachel's shoes and understand what it might be like to be so afraid to live while the rest of them are bogged down by their innate fear to die.

"The price that you are willing to pay for an uncertain future is too high, Noah." She beats him to the production of a physical response and the second that she does both know that this argument is over in favor of Rachel's side... But Noah has never been one to take well to losing and he cannot help but to cling onto that final thread of hope that foolishly forces himself to believe that this is not actually the end as they know it.

"It is not a price, Rachel!" He loses his patience, bursting to his feet in a manner that leaves Rachel flinching... Regret pools inside of his gut the second that he sees the motion against the tired lines inside of Rachel's face, forcing himself into his seat once more.

"I'm sorry..."

His face falls gently in his apology but eventually, Rachel manages a soft shrug in her response although offers no words as to indicate to Noah whether or not she had truly been hurt by his outburst.

"Please don't think anything less of me, Noah..." She murmurs and the fear inside of her weak voice leaves Noah physically shuddering against the idea that his sister believes him to think of her as anything less than his greatest hero.

"I don't..." He chokes quickly, his head shaking vigorously from side to side as if to emphasize his words that he can only pray will resonate across the surface of Rachel's skin... "I think that you're the bravest person that I've ever met... honestly."

"I don't know about that much..." Her face glows red; a flush of color against otherwise pale white cheeks as she plays the modest card as she always tends to do... The small smile that creeps across the corners of her lips is indication enough however, to tell Noah that he has said the right thing.

He watches her eyes carefully as they glaze within seconds... She looks suddenly far away, like her mind is a million miles from her physical body... His face falls briefly, his heart clenching inside of his chest as he swallows around the staleness of his own words for just a moment before allowing the lingering question to slip unconsciously past parted lips.

"Are you scared at all?"

Her neck cranes slowly in order to face him, eyes settling into deep thought as she considers her answer to her brother's question carefully although ultimately, she merely shrugs, responding in the most careful way that she can possibly think to do.

"I don't know yet." She chokes quickly but turns her head immediately away from Noah out of embarrassment to be crying in front of her brother... She has put up such a strong front up until this point. It absolutely kills Rachel to think that this will all be wasted in a momentary lapse of control.

"I'm sorry, Rachel..." Noah tenses in response to her tears, permanently fearful of doing anything that may cause discomfort for his sister that he was supposed to be protecting as though his life depended on it. "I didn't mean to make you... I'm sorry."

"I just don't want to be alone is all." She hiccups in response to his awkward apology, stilling Noah in the unexpectedness of his words... His head raises from its previous position fixated pointedly against the floor, their eyes matching for an extended handful of seconds as he attempts to look straight through her and deeper inside of her words.

"You won't be."

She needs to hear it. Rachel needs to know that somebody is willing to stay with her and hold her until all of the pain is gone... Noah knows that as long as he stands here and tells her that he will miss her _one_ last time every time, she will be able to stay strong...

But even this notion is starting to get harder.

He speaks with a confidence behind his voice, determined to rise up against the worst that it can possibly gets, but his heart pounds with a fear that he hopes will not resonate beneath his tone.

"I can promise you that much."

A knock at the door provides a saving grace towards a conversation that both Rachel and Noah understand was bound to get heavier before it could ever lighten... Rachel's neck cranes slowly, her head turning to identify the source in terms of a rare visitor, but the second that her eyes clear she understands that she has spoken too soon...

Suddenly, she would rather be lingering on her and her brother discussing the topic of her impending death.

"Um... hi Rachel..." Finn shuffles softly on unsteady feet, lingering inside of the doorway as his hands clutch against a bouquet of flowers so tightly that his knuckles blanch.

Rachel swallows heavily, the sound wrapping itself around her brain and squeezing gently as Finn takes the initiative to move forwards alongside the understanding that neither Noah nor Rachel were going to be the first ones to take the step towards inviting him inside...

Rachel attempts to narrow her eyes, to put on a display of utter hatred directed straight towards him, but there is absolutely no fight left inside of her body. The most that she can manage is confusion, a sense of betrayal that matches that by which she feels every time Finn is so much as mentioned, let alone in her presence...

Luckily, her brother manages to glare enough for the both of them.

"Um... how are you feeling?" Noah scoffs audibly against an answer that seems obvious and Finn stumbles over his reaction, tripping against his own two feet, coughing against his attempts towards covering up his tendency to falter as he retreats a comfortable distance away from Noah just in case the notoriously overprotective brother choose to reach out and throttle him.

"I'm not allowed to have flowers in here." Rachel ignores his question and focuses on the flash of pride that beams across Noah's eyes as she criticizes Finn's failures towards a peace offering although she cannot tell if either boy registers her words for a more deeper intent towards criticizing his failures as a boyfriend as a whole, "It's part of my infection precautions..."

"Oh..." Finn is thrown aback by his immediate errors, stepping back the handful of steps that he actually had managed to take forwards in order to toss the flowers abandoned against the hallway floor, "I'll just... I'll just leave those out there then."

His eyes dart nervously between Noah and Rachel, not entirely certain which Corcoran he should be more afraid of in this moment, but when Noah and Finn's eyes finally do meet, there is the ghost of a mutual understanding that sparks behind otherwise stony expressions.

Rachel's brow raises gently as she lingers between the two, suddenly wondering whether or not this visit is truly as much of a surprise as she had originally believed...

"I'm gonna go grab something to eat." Noah forces himself up and onto his feet, his willingness to leave Finn and Rachel alone together with such ease silently confirming everything that Rachel had previously been thinking... This _had_ to have been planned. Noah and Finn _had_ to have spoken with each other at some point... Rachel is almost curious. "I'll be back in five minutes... In _exactly_ five minutes."

Noah emphasizes the given time frame that he is willing to provide Finn with in order to fix this mess that he has created and Rachel bites her tongue against informing her brother that he could give them five minutes or five years together – it wouldn't make a difference...

His eyes don't leave Finn's as he pauses directly in front of the much taller boy, neither making a sound as Noah glares, silently warning Finn with sharp, piercing eyes not to mess up this second chance that he has been so gracefully blessed with before pushing past him, nudging Finn hard with his shoulder and turning sharply outside and into the hallway.

For a long time there is only complete silence.

It lasts for only seconds but each one of those seconds feels like an additional lifetime... Rachel's heart pounds inside of her chest, placing strain on the tightness that she already feels building against her constricted ribs.

She forces a couple of deep breaths that hitch against the back of her throat, trying desperately to control the obviousness of her motions as she attempts to adhere to the advice that her brother had always told her regarding staying tough in the face of your opponent... Of course, this was much easier to do when she was twelve years old and standing up to Quinn Fabray whom up until that point, she had considered a mortal enemy in front of the entirety of her gym class...

Finn... well Finn was different. With Finn, she had not anticipated this feeling, this disappointment, and if anything that only made it harder.

"What are you doing here, Finn?" When she is finally comfortable enough with he stable pattern of her breathing to trust her own voice, Rachel manages to ask the burning question... Her words or soft but at the same time, the shakiness is barely noticeable so that she can be nothing less than grateful regarding the tiny victory.

"I guess I just thought that it was about time I came to visit..." He shuffles uncomfortably so that Rachel can easily see the truth behind his eyes; he had come today under the premises that the end is coming soon, and although he hadn't possessed the capacity to see things that way before it had always been clear as glass to Rachel...

Maybe that is why they had not been able to see things eye to eye.

"You must have heard that I'm dying..." She is joking of course, but the content is much too grim for either of them to respond in anything more than an awkward grimace.

"Quinn came to talk to me..." Finn coughs nervously into the back of his hand as he begins to shift his body weight back and forth between his own two feet, Rachel's eyes subconsciously hypnotized by the continuous back and forth motions. "Puck too... Well, Quinn talked to me, mostly Puck just yelled but... I'm sure you get it."

"So basically you got a verbal berating from the two most outspoken people in our school." Rachel translates his own explanation, indicating that she does indeed fully understand where he is trying to go with his words.

"Uh... yeah... Whatever that means." Finn shrugs but his face is skewed with a look of dazed confusion so comfortably familiar to Rachel that her heart can't help to quicken even faster than it is already pacing.

She forces her self to shake her head away from him, her eyes tilting downwards as she once again begins to toy with the corners of her blanket, picking at it until the threads finally begin to come apart between her fingertips... She cannot deny her surprise in the revelation that both Noah _and_ Quinn – both of whom have a long and complicated history with Finn – have chosen to reach out to the boy for her sake in order to rectify a situation whose time frame for forgiveness was very near up...

But she does not make this known. In fact, she doesn't so much as allow her expression to change so that once again, the silence builds between them until it thickens and coils inside of her stomach to the point of nausea.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay..." Rachel's response is automatic as she quickly shakes her head against Finn's decision to break through that barrier with a long awaited apology... But it is only after Rachel rejects his bid for forgiveness that he projects the confidence to say all of the things that have been a long time coming, trying to drill inside of her head that he means every word of it.

"No it's not." He denies her quick acceptance because Finn knows just as well as Rachel does that her throw away response offered simply to fill up an otherwise inevitable silence was made simply because Rachel is much too polite to ever say what she truly thinks regarding Finn's treatment of her. "I got scared, Rachel and I know that that's not an excuse and that I probably sound like an idiot saying that in front of somebody who is as brave as you but I was a coward and I'm sorry that you got stuck in the middle of that I just... I was hoping that maybe there was still some time left for me to fix it."

She nods; a sharp, quick jerk of the head as she inhales against his sincerest of apologies... Breathing slowly, she closes her eyes and inhales, breathing out as genuine a tone as she can possibly muster.

"Thank you."

Finn nods his head slowly but his eyes turn down towards his feet as they begin to tap gently against the tile floor below him, trying to avoid what both him and Rachel quietly understand that she is trying to communicate – that she does not want to leave this world holding onto any grudges as stupid as that produced by a fleeting teenage romance sparked by an undertone of tragedy, both having grown much too old in these past couple of months to be pinned against anything such as that.

"So..." Rachel coughs gently in an attempt to continue conversation rolling alongside the hope that eventually they will be rid of these terrible silences that burst inside of their skulls like a nuclear explosion entirely. "I heard through the grapevine that you're joining the army.."

"I uh... I'm leaving for boot camp on June 22nd." Finn nods in his confirmation; a short, confident bob of his head as his face skews timid awaiting for Rachel's unpredictable response to the news.

"The day after graduation..." She expresses her sentiments, falling back slightly in her surprise as she slowly begins to understand the _exact_ reason that Finn had decided to come and see her today – because they both now share a mutual understanding of what it feels like to have absolutely no idea where they might be tomorrow... "Seems a little bit hasty, doesn't it?"

"I guess that I'm just ready for a change of scenery is all." Finn shrugs as if to play on the idea that his recent, chronic display of screwing up royally had played no role in his decision to leave Lima as quickly as humanly possible without looking back once.

"Well, have you really thought this through?" Rachel stutters in the fear that she had inadvertently contributed to a life altering decision that knowing Finn, he had probably not thought through in its entirety... "I mean, have you... I don't know, looked into going to West Point or the Naval Academy at all? I hear that they have a really good football team... They were even looking to recruit Noah last year until my mom squashed the idea of him going into the military..."

"No," Finn laughs with a shake of his head but Rachel's face remains somber. "I'm not smart enough to go to West Point or... wherever..."

"Don't say that..." Rachel whispers with a frown, shaking her head against his insistencies towards self deprecation, disappointed that he can display them so quickly without so much as a second thought.

"Eh, it's true..." He waves her off, uninterested in her attempts towards making him feel better when he had been the one to come here and try to make _her_ feel better. "Besides I'm not enlisting so that I can play football, I'm enlisting so that I can become a better man than the person that I was in high school... I'm ready to put the past behind me, Rachel, to forget about it."

"Do you want to forget about me?" Her sunken, brown eyes reach upwards to meet his own just as his brow begins to wrinkle with regret towards his word choice that he had _not_ intended Rachel on interpreting as she had...

"I wouldn't be able to forget about you even if I tried." He smiles, that famous lopsided grin that forces Rachel's own lips to tilt as she nods softly as if to indicate that she believes every word that he is telling her. "The first part of me becoming a better man is to make up for everything wrong that I ever did and the biggest thing that I have ever done wrong is screwing up everything that I did with you... I want to fix it, Rachel."

"There might not be a lot of time left for that..." She speaks with a breathy disposition behind her voice, a heavy heart melding inside of painfully truthful words...

Rachel watches Finn carefully for his reaction as he nods his head in a soft agreement before taking a step forwards closer towards her. Bending at the waist, he leans closer into her, his movements slow and deliberate as his arms snake around her frail back to pull her in tightly against his warm chest, his lips lingering downward against her forehead so that Rachel can feel the very weight of his heavy heart bearing down against her skin.

Rachel closes her eyes and despite all of the odds, finds herself leaning into his touch, into the acknowledgment that there will at least be one other person by her side to help guide her through the journey that she knows she would never be able to complete alone.

"I know... But I will be there, Rachel." He is firm in the promise of assurance, "For whatever time that there is left... I promise."

"Thank you, Finn..." She hiccups, pulling away from his arms out of embarrassment as she finds herself forced to wipe at moistened cheeks with the back of her taut hands.

She laughs but her motions are sad and forced in an obvious attempt to dissipate the emotions currently lingering between two sated bodies... Finn does not reciprocate her actions. Instead, he only stares, brooding and poised.

He stands tall but at the same time, Rachel can't help but to wonder whether or not it will be foolish of her to hold him to a promise that she knows as much as he does is bigger than all of them.

"It's enough to make you give up sometimes, huh?"

"Not this time." Finn straightens his spine confidently, his chest puffed outwards in the understanding that he has let Rachel down once before, he needs to do as much as humanly possible in order to instil a sense of confidence inside of Rachel towards him once again.

"Okay..." She breathes, readily believing him despite having entered this conversation with a heightened sense of caution. He smiles reassuringly and she reciprocates the action as a soft slight slowly begins to sift through an otherwise darkened cave so that for the first time in a long time, Rachel actually feels as though there might be a possibility for her to be saved after all.

* * *

><p>There is a perception about the dark that leaves Rachel remarkably uneasy.<p>

She can only assume her response to be natural; an innate reaction to the loss of light, but there is something about her room being lit by nothing more than a dull, fluorescent lamp dangling above her head that absolutely terrifies her.

Noah sits comfortably in front of the television and flips through the channels so quickly that Rachel's head spins... _She_ might be the one that is dying here, but that is still not an excuse for her brother to give her the rights to pick what she wants to watch for a change. Surprisingly, it is a sense of normalcy that provides nothing but comfort.

Her mother stands outside in the hallway. Rachel watches her carefully through the window, using her peripherals as not to be too obvious as she speaks to a large group of very official looking employees that look much more like lawyers than any doctor that she's ever seen; business suits and perfect hair and make up although on the inside, Rachel knows they must be fuming for being forced to work late into a Saturday evening...

She cannot hear a word that any of them are saying through the closed wooden door, but based on her mother's very animated non-verbal cues, things are not going very well and Rachel is not stupid enough to assume that this has nothing to do with her... In the end, she is forced to close her eyes and turn away just to keep her mind from wandering too far into the plethora of possibilities...

It has not been a particularly good night.

Rachel has been tossing and turning since mid-afternoon, blaming the vast energy expenditure that she had taken for granted earlier this morning for her lack of initiative towards doing so much as anything right now.

Pain throbs dully inside of her gut, gradually spreading from her toes through her fingertips... Flashes of white hot agony have become so frequent that she half wishes that she could just keel over and die right here, right now simply to get the inevitable over with already.

"Hey Rach?" She doesn't even realize the fact that she had allowed a soft groan of protest to escape from beyond her lips until her brother is calling out to her... Sneaking a gentle eye open, it takes a long time for Noah's features to defog around her.

She can only wonder if she looks as bad as she feels... _Probably worse_, is the closest thing to an answer that Rachel can come up with...

"Are you okay?"

"Great..." She mutters, the single syllable being the only thing that she can force her ravished body to produce as her eyelids instantly grow heavy all over again, leaving them open for anything more than several seconds at a time being enough to exhaust her in this moment.

"Do you want me to go get mom?" He fidgets nervously and Rachel can hear the panic rising inside of his voice as he bypasses her response to his previous inquiry without second thought and prepares to call for back up out of fear that the bitter end is here to come in any one, fleeting moment that he is not ready to face on his own.

"Not yet..." She assures him and Noah only nods, watching carefully as every breath that she takes grows a little paler than the last...

But it is almost as though Shelby can sense her children's subconscious desire for her presence from through the walls of the enclosed room, a maternal instinct that has her slipping carefully through the door just as Rachel begins to procure second thoughts against the accuracy of her previous statement.

This time the mother is alone. Absent is the entourage that she has spent the better part of the last hour arguing with, and Shelby does not hesitate upon closing the door firmly behind her in an indication of the family's desire for privacy...

Through eyes open to nothing more than thin slits, Rachel watches as the first thing that Shelby does is to lock eyes with Noah as he continues to hover over her otherwise prone form.

They wear matching expressions; a deep sadness that cannot be expressed into any form of words as it settles deep inside of their very core and resonates alongside the idea that they have exhausted all possible options of saving Rachel's life devoid of a miracle.

Nobody says a word, but at the same time they all know.

Shelby's tired features are only emphasized by the dim light inside of the room, creating the illusion that she is literally sinking inwards. She looks exhausted and Rachel knows that a lot of this has to do with her mother's desire to count herself _awake_, holding onto every second leading up to their demise... She holds every detail of their family being together deep inside of her mind understanding full well that it can be lost at any given second in the day.

"We're taking Rachel home."

"What!" Noah's response is abrupt and entirely involuntary. A loud yelp accompanied by a crack in his voice emphasizes his surprise.

Both mother and son cringe at the volume of his expression, immediately turning towards Rachel for fear of disturbing her, but the girl's eyes only flicker closed in the satisfaction that she will be at least granted the opportunity to be safe inside of her own home once more.

"The hospital and I, we worked something out so that Rachel can spend the rest of the time that she has left at home." The words explode between them like a bomb; the emphasis that the girl before them, so physical in presence right now is dying and that while it may not happen tonight or tomorrow or even the next day if they're _really_ lucky, the end is not inevitable. "We'll have a live-in nurse to help and... and they'll give her medicine to keep her... to keep her comfortable... I just think... I think that Rachel would prefer it this way."

"That's bullshit!"

"Noah..." Shelby warns, motioning towards him with both hands to settle; a silent plea as her eyes flicker between her two children in search for a means by which to satisfy _both_ of their needs, "Please..."

"Why are you giving into them?" The anger is still apparent deep within the pit of his voice, but Noah's volume drops considerably alongside the underscore of a reminder that the sister whose fate they are discussing remains directly before him. "You know what those people can be like... The only thing that they want to do is shuffle Rachel around and get her out of here as quickly as they possibly can for space and you're just letting them do it... You don't want Rachel to come home, mom I know it. I saw you out there yelling."

"I wasn't yelling." Shelby sighs, her exhaustion clearly apparent behind her voice as she attempts to detract Noah away from a reluctant path towards the acceptance that she knows they are all going to need in order to get through these next couple of days.

"Trust me mom, I know what it looks like when you're mad." He doesn't falter nor does he fall for her excuses. Noah has always been hopelessly stubborn – just like his mother. "You were yelling."

She is quiet for lack of a response when Noah finally does rip himself away from Rachel's bedside in order to pace in frantic circles, his quick, jerky movements indicative of his desperation to regain at least a sense of control...

When his gaze tears over towards the large picture window hanging over their small city, looking up towards the millions of stars that he has seen millions of times, his muscles finally relax with defeat as he begins to wonder how it is possible for something to appear so much bigger than before all within a matter of seconds – a phenomenon that Shelby has been trying to figure out for years.

"I can't do this..."

When Noah finally does look back towards her, it is in a burst of light that glimmers slowly out of his face. His eyes search her own, desperate for a glimpse of indecision towards his mother's final decision, but when this never comes, he is left to slide his palms up and down across his face as if trying to rub out the disbelief.

He misses her already but this goes without saying, because Shelby feels the exact same way.

"Believe me Noah, there is nothing in this world that I would rather make you do less than this..." Shelby's eyes dance across his own, exhausted expressions masking the inadequacy each feels towards an impossible situation.

"Then why are you?" The undersides of his eyes are red rimmed as he attempts to hold the tears back inside of his skull. His words are sharp, but Shelby tries desperately not to take them too personally out of a mutual understanding towards just how hard this is for all of them.

"Because if you don't do it today than eventually there will come a time that you hate yourself for wishing that you had." Shelby swallows hard, shaking her head slowly against his defiance, personal experience dictating an understanding that she does not want her son to ever have to figure out for himself.

"I don't understand how you're so calm right now." He begins to pace; the shadows caused by his filtering into and out of the light behind Rachel's closed eyes is enough in itself to make her dizzy... Even she can tell that his movements are rigid and tense as he attempts to piece everything together. When she finally does manage to sneak a single eye open softly, it is only to watch Noah glare with disbelief towards their mother in an attempt to understand how it is possible that she is so easily accepting Rachel's fate when mere days ago, Shelby had been calling on favors from the Gods themselves for a means of saving Rachel's life.

"Because I love her too much to keep doing this, Noah." She informs him through a surprisingly soft smile displayed behind impossibly sad eyes. "We have to say goodbye."

He considers her words, stumbling briefly over the possibilities in his response without ever actually emitting a single sound before ultimately swallowing in defeat with a shake of his head as to indicate just how lost he has become amidst all of this confusion.

"What if I don't know how to?"

"I know that this is hard..." Shelby reaches out towards him and places a hand against his firm shoulder, squeezing it tightly still just grateful that he is not pulling away from her comforting embrace like he had been so prone to doing in these past weeks, "I'll give you a map when I figure it out for myself, but for right now I'm going to have to be honest with you Noah, I am winging every move that I make... I just... I can only hope that I don't do too bad a job because I'm really going to need you to follow my lead over here in these next couple of days and pray that it takes us in the right direction, okay?"

"Okay..." The boy nods his head in an indication of his willingness to work with his mother for the first time that he can truly remember in the understanding that right now everything they do _has_ to be with Rachel in the forefront of their minds...

They will have an opportunity to linger inside of themselves later.

"When is all of this gonna happen?" Noah takes a deep, firm breath as if to force both himself as well as his mother to believe just how strong he can be throughout all of this, his spine straightening instinctively as his eyes narrow in upon his mother's, determinedly clear of all tears and in fact, any indication of lingering sadness.

"Tomorrow morning," Shelby follows his lead through a mutual understanding, appreciative of his effort at mother and son focus on the task at hand and not the future that it will eventually bear down upon them, "Maybe even later on tonight, it all depends..."

"I should probably text Quinn..." The memory sparks inside of his subconscious desire to keep moving in an effort to prevent himself from getting lost inside of his own head, a reminder that the blonde had been adamant earlier this afternoon about stopping in on her latest project towards repentance that even Noah was surprised, he was believing. "She wanted to stop by a little bit later... I should tell her not to bother."

"Keep her updated... Tell her to stop by the house if we bring Rachel home tonight." Shelby nods, surprised even at herself for so much as making the suggestion, still not entirely used to the blonde's presence in their family settling on the more positive spectrum of things. "I'm sure that Rachel would like that."

Shelby swallows into silence, her eyes lingering over towards her daughter's still form as the girl drifts like lightening, into and out of consciousness. The only sounds amidst the quiet room are those of her son's fingers dancing across the key pad of his cell phone and Shelby finds comfort in the dulcet tones of a message delivered in a matter of mere seconds.

"She'll be there."

Shelby embraces an opportunity of having to wait but a mere handful of seconds for answers...

_Waiting_... It is all they seem to do these days and Shelby is so tired of it.

Her body sits frozen in her stillness but inside of her head, her mind begins to race as her knees collapse from beneath her, forcing herself into a chair on the opposite side of the bed from where Noah sits. She makes herself comfortable in the understanding that her moment for rapid answers has come and gone. Here, she will be waiting for a long time coming although she does not complain as the motion is accompanied by a strong sense of wishful thinking, begging for this moment never to end although deep down Shelby knows that eventually it must.

Time creeps slowly inside of the room. On one side, Shelby latches herself onto Rachel's hand while at the other, Noah presents himself diligently at his post, each grabbing hold tight as if this will be enough to keep Rachel here with them – silently begging her to please just _stay_.

* * *

><p>Waiting to die remarkably turns out to be pretty dull.<p>

Rachel has easily identified a readily set pattern of events that follows into the hours... She has her moments of blissful, painless lucidity but even those are beginning to grow briefer and briefer. Ever stronger are the violent revolts, her body releasing its tirade against her ever daring to embrace those moments in which she almost feels – dare she say it – _good_, so good in fact that she can almost forget about the crippling pain that is only bound to return.

The most excitement that she has had is the promise that at one point within the next twenty four hours, she will be granted sanctuary inside of her own bed, but at this point she is too tired to even express this, so instead she waits.

"You should call Uncle Ephraim, mom..." Rachel fades slowly into and out of a fuzzy conversation between her mother and brother as they plan for the worst around her rapidly diminishing form. "Do you think that he would want to come down to see Rachel?"

Rachel considers the question inside of a greater scope. She has not seen her uncle since her Bat Mitzvah three years ago... Ephraim Berry was a busy man that lived in Boston with his trophy wife, three perfect children and a multi-million dollar architecture firm that he had personally raised from the ground up. It isn't as though Rachel is bitter or anything, it is just that the fact that she barely knows her mother's eldest sibling apart from a handful of holiday visits is astounding.

She can only guess that her funeral must be considered an important occasion.

Against her better judgment, Rachel laughs at the mere idea for reasons that are completely unknown, even to her... But her tongue feels fuzzy as though she has been dry swallowing fire balls all afternoon, topping it off by stuffing a furry animal inside of her mouth. The noise comes out barely above a whimper. Neither Shelby nor Noah so much as notice.

"Your aunt called him already this afternoon..." Shelby responds quietly, her hands weaving automatically through her hair so that Rachel can immediately tell that her thought processes are going much along the same; lines as Rachel's; that a tragedy large enough to warrant a visit from Ephraim is a tragedy of disproportionate means. "He'll be here tomorrow night."

"What about grandma and grandpa?" Noah swallows trying desperately to accommodate Rachel's particular love of being surrounded by as many people as humanly possible. "And Aunt Krista..."

"They're at the house, getting it ready for Rachel."

"Oh..." And just like that it is over. Mother and son fade back into obscurity; a silence that Rachel knows is now bound to linger with limited interruption for hours to come.

"Shelby!"

When the hours that Rachel had previously predicted quickly turn into nothing more than mere seconds, the girl's reaction is violent in her surprise...

The sound of footsteps pounding with resolve inside of her otherwise quiet room has her jerking painfully from a previously relaxed position inside of her bed, her heart racing in a rush that sends such an indescribable pain through her spine that it leaves her trembling.

Adrenaline pours inside of her veins, initiating the hyperactive response that has her eyes focusing inwards towards the source of the intrusion... Her mother and brother shoot upwards from their seats, blocking her vision only briefly before she manages to identify her own doctor through the cracks between their bodies.

"Dr. McCarthy..." Shelby sounds desperate as if begging will prevent this man from delivering any more bad news to the unsuspecting family, silently informing him that if he doesn't have anything good to say in regards to Rachel's condition, he will be better off just keeping it to himself at this point. "What happened? I thought you said that they weren't going to be ready to move Rachel for another couple of hours..."

"We aren't bringing Rachel home tonight."

Rachel's heart plunges into her stomach as the one thing that she had been truly looking forward to vanishes before her very eyes... Tears flush inside of her exhausted sinuses but Rachel doesn't have the energy to so much as allow them to fall. She cannot begin to imagine what could have possibly gone worse than what her current condition has indicated that has restricted her from the courtesies of being allowed to die in her own damn home as opposed to inside of this God forsaken hospital, but she _is_ certain that whatever it is, she doesn't want to hear it.

"What?" Shelby's voice is drained and devoid of understanding... Rachel can practically hear as her brain churns inside of her head just trying to keep up with the flurry of directions that her emotions are being thrown inside of.

"A teenaged girl was just brought into the ER." The doctor explains slowly. "She was in a car accident and has been declared brain dead."

His announcement is met with a silence that he has clearly not been expecting. The air is so thick that Rachel can practically taste it.

"I'm sorry..." Shelby follows her temporary setback with a violent stutter as she voices in the respect of her entire family, a lack of understanding towards why he is providing them with this information... She sounds almost offended as if to ask this man if his intentions are to simply rip their hearts further from their chests in relaying this painful story that hits much too close to their current predicament to be particularly comfortable. "How does this effect my daughter?"

Rachel knows that tone. She has heard her mother speak it a million times before although she can never in her life remember a time that it had been directed towards Dr. McCarthy."

"Shelby, the girl's parents have agreed to donate her organs."

He recognizes Shelby's understandable aggravation and cuts straight to the point before the mother has the opportunity to raise her guard _too_ high around either of her children.

The effect is immediate and expected. The room freezes into an impenetrable stillness as the doctor's words seep slowly across the surface of their skin and deep down into their very bones themselves... It seems so obvious now that Rachel is disappointed in herself that she had not expected it.

"She is a match with Rachel," He nods through a bright smile, continuing only after he is certain that the family has shaken off their shock long enough to actually hear him. "And the donation of her kidney to Rachel has just been approved."

"Is this..." Shelby pauses, swallowing heavily against a sudden bout of dry mouth; the confident and poised singer with a voice that could put the rest of the world to shame silenced in a struggle to structure her words around a brain torn between screaming for joy and resisting elevating her hopes for fear of being only disappointed yet again, "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"No Shelby..." The man laughs but this is only because he has had the pleasure of being acquainted with this woman long enough to anticipate this reaction from her, "It's not a joke."

"Oh my God..." The astonishment builds quickly inside of her chest, swelling until her heart literally begins to ache underneath the pressure. "Oh my God!"

Shelby is repetitive in her uncharacteristic loss for words. Her body begins to tremble, physically shivering from her head down inside of her very toes as the tears quickly swell against the undersides of her eyes. Her hands jut out in front of her as she looks for someone, _anyone_ to latch onto in an expression of a relief untranslatable by mere words alone. She finds Noah, her fingers clutching onto the shoulders of his t-shirt, surprising him by the suddenness of her actions as she pulls him into her body and holds on for dear life.

He accepts her actions, sitting like a frozen block of ice against her body, dumbstruck by their unforeseeable turn of fortunes until Shelby pulls away from him, attempts to straighten herself up quickly. She wipes her eyes with the balls of her hands, scratches her fingers like a makeshift comb through the tangled web that has since become of her hair, primping for her second chance.

"When will it happen?" She coughs in an attempt towards sounding as official as humanly possible, but her hand continues to grip onto Noah's own, their fingers lacing as she squeezes him to near painful proportions.

"We've already waited long enough, I think..." He smiles, Shelby's head nodding automatically alongside his words in an indication of her agreement. "The donor will be brought into surgery within the next hour or two, Rachel won't be too far along after that. We will like to start prepping her immediately."

"Can I go with her?" Shelby's question sounds rushed; she is asking simply out of formality. She is already halfway out the door before the words have so much as finished leaving her mouth.

"Shelby..." The doctor's tone has her pausing. She has not particularly been expecting to receive a definitive _no_ in response so that when the doctor hints subtly towards this unexpected direction, she is thrown back with a force that has her grip against Noah's hand tightening, leaving the boy wincing. "I would actually like to take this opportunity to maybe speak with you and Noah in my office... There are a couple of... uh..._ stipulations_ that we have to discuss."

He chooses his words carefully but both Shelby as well as Noah immediately recognize exactly what it is that he is trying to say...

They had both been so overrun with relief – a flush of happiness that either craved just as much as the other – towards the idea that Rachel has suddenly been given this miraculous second chance that they had completely forgotten that it was only just that – a _chance_...

It is not as though the fact that there is currently a girl somewhere inside of this hospital that has befallen victim to a terrible, senseless tragedy for the sake of others' lives will automatically save Rachel's... Rachel was still sick; sick beyond a measure that they could truly comprehend. Her chances are not definite... Hell, they probably aren't even so much as _good_.

"I'll give you three a minute..." The doctor steps back in recognition of the idea that this is a decision that this family must discuss together.

Shelby and Noah swallow hesitantly around his departure. His absence darkens the room once more and now clouded with the uncertainty of choice, the mood is perhaps more grim than it had been even before.

Nerves lacing through their veins as the magnitude of their decision slowly begins to seep through their pores, both lock eyes only briefly before turning back towards Rachel, matched in their uncertainty. Everything is moving much too quickly than either of their exhausted brains can manage to keep up with.

They can either lose Rachel tonight, or they can save her.

"What should we do?" Noah breaks the silence but Shelby only shakes her head before taking a slightly uneasy step forwards closer towards Rachel as if to merely indicate what her final decision will be – to ask the one person who deserves more than any of them to make her voice heard.

"Rachel... Rachel...?" The girl is awake but her eyes are so glazed over and despondent that Shelby makes the mistake of assuming that she had been apart from the world this entire time. She shakes Rachel's shoulder gently, but in her haze each jolt feels like a punch that leaves her head rattling as her eyes begin to drift rapidly through various stages of focus. "Honey, you have to wake up I need you to listen to me... I know that you're tired Rachel but this is important... The doctors, they found a kidney for you Rachel. We found a match."

Rachel manages a nod, hoping that the movement will be enough to translate into an understanding that she had been present enough in her focus during Dr. McCarthy's speech to have heard everything that he had told them.

"Noah..." She groans for her brother's presence when her eyes lose him in the midst of her mother's movements about his body, her weak profession being the sole word that she can manage in her effort to project a desire to have her entire family by her side, the memory being all that she knows will be able to guide her through these next couple of hours bound to be the most difficult of her life.

"No, no Rachel, it's not from Noah..." Shelby misinterprets Rachel's statement, emphasized the girl's continuous struggle in expressing herself as Rachel gulps heavily and attempts to align her brain into a state of focus towards performing such seemingly menial tasks.

Frustration grows inside of the pit of her stomach when she stutters briefly over the depletion of oxygen inside of her lungs and fades into silence once more. She has never before experienced something like this; a fit of weakness that leaves her body wracked in tremors that Shelby interprets as a representation of her fear although Rachel cannot be entirely certain of this herself... Her mother is sent into a flurry trying to comfort her, her hand rubbing in gentle circles up and down the length of Rachel's arm, friction providing the confidence that Rachel hopes she will be able to hold onto.

"The donor is random, sweetie..." Shelby explains what Rachel already knows but the younger girl humors the worried mother who absorbs comforts through rambling; a nervous habit characteristic of their entire family. "We don't know who it is... That person, she was an organ donor. That means that she _wanted_ this, Rachel. She wants to give you this gift and you are going to be okay... Everything is going to be okay now."

"Okay..." Rachel swallows the bitter taste inside of her mouth and forces herself to at least attempt to sooth her mother's fears that Rachel is certain are insurmountable even in comparison to her own in this moment... It is not the first time that the thought had passed through her mind, the idea that this whole thing, it may have been killing her _physically_, but it was killing her family as well, only in a much different sense...

The difference was that at least for Rachel, there was an end in sight.

"Is this..." Shelby swallows briefly mid-question as if to allow her an opportunity to reconsider the idea of whether or not she _truly_ wants to complete her words. Breathing steadily for a handful of seconds, Shelby eventually shakes her head against her own selfish thoughts and continues in a determination to trust her daughter's every decision in terms of her own life – whatever that decision may be. "Is this really what you want, Rachel? I mean... after everything with Noah and the... and the risks... It's up to you honey and I don't want you to feel pressured by me, or Noah, or the doctors or anybody... This is about you and I want you to know that it is okay for you to say no... Just remember what I told you last night... I know that you're tired, and I know that you're scared. It's okay if you don't want to do this."

It is an indication of just how far Shelby has come simply by her ability to ask Rachel this question. It brings to her daughter, a spread of comfort across the length of her body; a warmth that has the girl beaming as she slowly nods her head without second thought.

"I... I want this." Rachel promises, staring upwards towards her mother as the older woman offers her an assuring – albeit watery – smile.

"They're gonna have to take you upstairs to get you ready for surgery soon and I'm not going to be able to come with you but me and Noah will get a chance to see you before they... before they..."

"Before they cut me open?" Rachel forces as much of a smile as she can manage as she completes the sentence that Shelby can't seem to finish herself.

"Yeah..." Shelby nods in her confirmation; her voice is permeated by the ghost of a laugh, but still, her eyes darken.

"Hey..." Rachel stiffens in response to a profound guilt collecting against the moisture on her mother's cheeks. She swallows briefly against her dry mouth. Taking her time, she speaks when she can. "Don't cry mom. I'm gonna be fine."

"No... no, it's okay... I know that you will be." Shelby shakes off her daughter's concern although even her best efforts are difficult to believe as she nods confidently and wipes the tears quickly away through a heavy inhale that sucks them all back inside of wherever it was that they'd come from... She smiles brightly, reaching downwards in order to grab onto Rachel's hand with both of her own, squeezing as tightly as she possibly can as though terrified to ever let her go again.

"Hey mom?"

"Yeah?" Shelby snaps to a vigilant attention, dutifully prepared to deliver Rachel anything that she can ask for, even if it required her moving to the ends of the Earth and back just to give it to her.

"You're hurting my hand."

"I'm sorry." Shelby jumps backwards stiffly in an expression of her permanent fear of befalling upon her daughter, any more damage than what her already frail body can possibly sustain.

"It's okay..." Rachel shakes off the apology in acknowledgment of her mother's desire to cling tightly onto her, fully understanding what it means to so desire a little something extra to hold onto.

"Alright..." Shelby nods softly. She leans close into Rachel once more but does not retain her post at the girl's hand as she takes their physical parting as the first of many painful steps towards their impending, painful parting of ways; Shelby's being forced to trust her own daughter's life at the hands of a team of doctors that she doesn't even know. Rachel knows that it must be killing her, but she silently applauds her mother's confidence as she attempts to absorb her bravery. "I'm going to see you in a little while, Rachel... But still, I want you to know that I love you very, very much – more than you will ever know, okay?"

"N-Noah...?" Rachel's breathing increases towards her mother's parting sentiments. She feels badly, ignoring the woman's expression of unconditional love but she tenses terrified in the fear that she will be unable to see her brother before she is sent into surgery because despite all of them constantly informing her that they will have an opportunity to cross each others paths once more before she is taken into surgery, Rachel has since developed a few trust issues in terms of doctors and their promises... She needs to see her brother.

Just in case.

"He's right here, honey..." Shelby does not hesitate in her assurances, stepping back slightly as she beckons with her hands for Noah to shuffle closer. He approaches nervously, hands deep inside of his pockets as his presence completes the formation of a tight circle between the three family members that they all wish that they could hold onto forever.

"Hey sis..." Noah greets her awkwardly, none certain of exactly what to say in the midst of all of the muddled chaos plagued with an uncertain endpoint. "It uh... it looks like I managed to weasel my way out of this one."

"You do have a gift for that..." Rachel manages a soft laugh towards her brother's graceful attempt towards lightening the mounting tension that hovers above them, but the relief is short lived, their faces falling the second the motion gets stuck at the base of her throat, pushing upwards and out of her mouth in the form of a painful, ragged coughing fit.

The sounds are puny and pathetic but each one hurts worse than the last. Her family watches her with a nervous content but Rachel forces herself to wave them off before they have the opportunity to say anything. She doesn't want what can very well be her final moments with the people that she loves the most in this world to be them asking her if she was okay when the answer was already so clear.

"We'll, uh... we'll be right down her waiting for you so please don't be the diva that you always are and take forever up there." Noah attempts to diffuse the tension lingering against the space created between their bodies but his voice is so stiff and devoid of its usual charm that it is hard to look past what they are all thinking.

"You're the one that always hogged the bathroom in the morning." Rachel breathes a playful retort gently but she quickly fades into silence. Her body is tensed in an overwhelming pain. She tries desperately to screw her face into a neutral expression but she does not fool either her mother or brother for one second.

Rachel swallows heavily. She knows that they are trying their bests, but they are afraid and so is she. No amount of joking in a not so subtle attempt towards avoiding the truth is going to change this.

"Noah..." Her voice changes drastically. It is choked with a fountain of tears as the nerves slowly begin to take over; a true and trite fear seeping out from within her words as her brother leans inwards just a little bit closer in order to catch the softness of her words; an underlying terror practically silencing her. "You promised me that I wasn't gonna die alone."

"You won't." Noah's response is immediate. Rachel hasn't heard him sound this confident in weeks.

Noah ignores the feeling of his mother's muscles tensing violently besides him in her response to Rachel's words, in the acknowledgment that her two young children had so much as _had_ this conversation with each other because right now, Noah knows that his primary focus needs to be on Rachel and Rachel only.

Him and his mother would have plenty of time to catch up with one another while Rachel was in surgery.

"Listen to me, Rachel that's not gonna happen okay and I'll tell you why... I've got this feeling, you know... This _gut_ feeling and you know how I am with these kind of things, I'm always right." Noah flashes her his famous, brilliant smile that most girls would kill for an opportunity to see. His face glistens with a confidence that has Rachel physically relaxing beneath his words. "Chances like this, they only happen for a reason. You taught me that, remember? There is no way in hell that you have made it this far only to... only to... Anyway, you're gonna be fine, Rae. I just know it."

"Pinky promise?" Rachel smirks as she makes a jerking motion with her hand, but she barely has the energy to lift her pinky outwards towards Noah in the sibling's classic expression of a means of offering each other only their most sincere of promises.

"Pinky promise." Noah smiles confidently and helps Rachel to complete the action that she simply cannot do on her own, wrapping his own bold finger around Rachel's own before shaking with a surprising gentleness that does not compliment his lumbering size.

"I'm... holding it against you if... you're wrong."

"You can haunt me for the rest of eternity." Their words are heavy but it is the first time that they have spoken with such ease all night. "Hold me to that."

"Oh Noah..." She laughs gently but the image quickly fades into nothing beyond a lingering smirk; a ghost of everything that her family knows her to be truly capable of. "I love you the most, okay?"

"Nah, that's impossible..." He challenges her sentiments of faith through a small shake of his head highlighted by a casual shrug of the shoulders, "Cause I love you the most."

"Alright..." Rachel mouths upwards in her acceptance towards her and Noah's faux argument but her eyes are wandering in an attempt to cram as many as these short memories as possible into the back of her mind within a matter of the minutes that they have left with each other. "Mom..." She calls out to the woman, vying for the attention of the entirety of her small family and even though Shelby is busy speaking with the orderlies designated to take Rachel away from them, she manages to pull away without so much as a warning the second that she hears Rachel's voice calling to her.

"Honey, Noah and I... we're gonna have to go now." Shelby speaks slowly as if to prolong their time together. Her hands weave around the back of Rachel's bald head, cradling her as if she were an infant again as she leans further inwards towards her, ensuring that Rachel will hear. "We'll see you in a little while. I am going to be right downstairs waiting for you – me and your brother and your aunt and grandparents – and when you get of surgery with your brand new kidney feeling as good as new again, I will be the first person that you see when you wake up, okay?"

"Okay..." Rachel's response is distant, her eyelids already growing heavy before so much as a single anesthetic has been injected into her veins.

"I love you." Shelby mutters softly, keeping her voice strong for the sake of her daughter, under the impression that putting up this facade of utmost confidence will be the one thing that will keep her from becoming a complete and total nervous wreck in the hours leading through Rachel's surgery.

"Not... as much as I... love you..."Rachel manages an impressive response and although it leaves Shelby faltering slightly, she forces herself to regain composure because she knows for a fact that it is not a choice; she _has_ to...

Leaning forwards, she places a gentle, lingering kiss directly against the top of Rachel's head before she straightens, forcing her spine to stiffen with a final nod of her head and a gentle squeeze of Rachel's hand as Shelby allows them all to know that she is ready as she will ever be to allow them to take her daughter away from her.

* * *

><p>They barrel through the stairwells, fully understanding that just because the step had been taken for Rachel to be physically removed from their care does not mean that they are quite ready to sit around and fiddle with their thumbs in waiting for the next several hours quite yet.<p>

Shelby pushes past every body that gets in her way. She is just in the process of throwing elbows when Noah's cell phone goes off.

He considers ignoring the intrusive nuisance. He is having a difficult enough time keeping up with an aggressively over-determined Shelby as it is, but one quick glance down towards the screen tells him that it is Quinn calling and the reminder that she is supposed to be sitting outside of their house within the next couple of minutes to visit a girl that won't even be there forces him to answer in his eagerness to spread the good news that she no longer has to bother.

"Hey!"

Noah answers the phone with an enthusiasm prevalent behind his voice; a tone that he has not heard emit from within the depths of his own mouth for weeks now. "Where the hell are you? Something huge is happening."

"Noah..." Quinn's voice does not pose nearly the same level of intensity or excitement as Noah's does. In the essence of the muddled chaos, Noah does not even notice. "I'm downstairs with Brittney. We're... we're in the ER."

"I thought that you were just going straight to my house?" His mind is too focused to consider any different possible meaning behind Quinn's words as he is thrown into a pitfall of confusion. Quinn has come to visit Rachel enough to understand that trying to make it to the inpatient centers through the Emergency Room was the equivalent of trying to make it in through a maze. "Why would you ever come in through the ER entrance? Are you guys lost down there? You are, aren't you?"

He's laughing, shaking his head against this minor inconvenience because his mind is far too preoccupied in his relief to care that he is now going to have to fish through the vast Emergency Department of Lima Memorial Hospital in order to locate his friends.

"Listen Quinn, I can come down to find you but you're going to have to give me a couple of minutes because Rachel is..."

"Noah, listen to me!" She cuts him off abruptly, emphasizing her words with a pure desperation that forces Noah to halt in his tracks.

"What happened?"

He stops, his mind finally focusing inwards in concentration. He is experienced enough with this tone to understand that something has gone horribly wrong amidst all of the gladness.

"Brittney and I, we're... we're _in_ the ER, Noah." She enunciates the word _in_ with a mannerism that clarifies her initial sentence in an instant. His feet still to a complete halt below him, frozen as his eyes quickly begin to widen with a sense of realization.

"Why?" Is all he can manage as he becomes only vaguely aware that even his mother has paused in her ministrations in order to stare, silently inquiring towards him as to what the hold up is.

"We don't know anything officially yet, nobody has come to talk to us so I don't want you to panic but... but I don't think that it's good, Noah.."

"Quinn, what happened?" His voice raises to a dull roar despite himself.

"There was a car accident." Quinn breathes and Noah's heart immediately catches somewhere inside of his constricting throat.

_ "A teenaged girl was just brought into the ER." _Dr. McCarthy's words from mere minutes prior ring clearly inside of Noah's head, vibrating incessantly between his very ears. _"She was in a car accident and has been declared brain dead."_

"Santana was hurt, Noah."

* * *

><p><strong>Miriami<strong>** – Thank you so much, it's quite the honor! Their little family has definitely experienced a lot of pain but it is far from over. Their emotions are going to be all over the place in these last couple of chapters. I will gladly keep writing as long as you want to keep reading! Haha. Thanks again!**

**Guest**** – I'm sorry to make you cry! Thank you for the support it's greatly appreciated!**

**Gleefanficfan**** – Well let me be the first to welcome you back! Haha. I actually really love that concept and that whole idea and the big thing that I was trying to build on was that the entire family was scrounging pretty desperately to make peace as quickly as humanly possible and as time progressed they found that it was easier. Now that they have been thrown this left hook, their emotions are going to be in a little bit of a scramble all over again and they are going to have to embrace this sense all over again. Thank you for all of your kind words and beautiful suggestion it is all very much appreciated! **

**Princess-N-xoxo**** – Thank you, thank you! Reality had definitely started to set in for Shelby and Noah. As hard as it was, they both knew that making peace was the only real option that they had for Rachel's sake. I'm actually surprised that you're the first person to mention Santana! She dropped off the face of the Earth for a bit and I tried to throw in a few subtle hints but Santana was always a vital piece to this story. Thank you again for all of the lovely words!**

**Just Me**** – Rachel definitely has that effect on her. They all are almost impossibly stubborn but at the same time they are realists and this unfortunately, is not unfamiliar territory for ****them. I've actually noticed that the majority of people have told me that they too were intrigued to see what would happen if Rachel died which I was surprised about because I thought that there would be a bounty for my head if I ended up killing her in the end. I've known from the beginning that I didn't want this story to have a "happy" ending per se, like you said it isn't realistic and I didn't think that it would be fair to the people that have taken this journey with me but the longer I was writing the more I swayed towards the direction I did because it felt right to me. There will be a little more insight into Noah in the next chapter, particularly between him and Rachel. Shelby has grown a lot. She went into this thinking that she knew how everything would happen because she has been through it before and learned the hard way that that was not the case but she is growing, and I promise that she isn't angry with Rachel she is just entering the grieving process before Rachel is even gone. And oh my god I hope your eyes feel better! I thought getting styes every once in a while was bad. It means even more that you put in such a thoughtful review with your eyes swollen shut! Thank you!**

**Gleeks09**** – Thank you so much! I'm glad you've had a chance to connect with these characters like I have it means a lot!**

**TheCdKnight**** – Glad to be giving you another chapter again! There is no way that Noah is not taking the opportunity to go to school and play football after all of this that is one thing I can assure you and I've been considering a sequel centered around Noah in college and Rachel as a senior in high school but we'll see. I am touched by your kind words they mean so much, really!**

**Lila**** – Friendly reminder that this – believe it or not – is not actually the only story on this website. Feel free to pass it by next time.**

**Guest**** – Haha I'm sorry!**

**WittyNinja**** – I know, I know things were always going to get worse before they ever got better.**

**Hazelbutton2002**** – This has definitely been an emotional roller coaster. It is emotionally exhausting just to write but I hope you don't take it in the wrong way when I say that I'm glad that it can translate from my mind to your reading so thank you!**

**Seher143**** – Thank you so much for your incredibly kind words! I love writing this family's journey I'm glad that you can take it with me.**

**Baygirl123**** – Thank you!**

**Bueller806**** – Oh god, please don't stop breathing I would feel terribly guilty if I was responsible for killing you! With that said, thank you so much! It's always nice to know that everything that I see inside of my head is at least quasi-translatable emotions wise. Now stock up on those nutrients!**

**FlatWeasley**** – I'm sorry for the tears but there are still a few twists in this journey before it is finished so stay strong! Thank you for the review!**


	49. Rachel Corcoran - January 2012 (Part II)

**So this chapter is a long one (about 17,000 words) which is part of the reason why it took so long to throw up here, the other part was fun holiday stuff, I've been in two different countries and six states since last we spoke and loved every second of my mini vacation! I contemplated splitting this guy up into two chapters but it didn't feel right so I decided to leave it into one big chunk so I hope you all don't mind. And the way that it is looking right now, the next chapter will be the last one. It's going to be an epilogue told a little in the future with a series of flashbacks but it might end up actually being two chapters so I'm making no promises about that. That sounds so weird to say and then I just realized that today marks the one year anniversary of me posting this story. Strange how that worked out :) **

**That deserves a big, huge THANK YOU to everybody that's stuck with me this past year (and those that have joined along the way). The last year has been so chaotic and full of changes in my life, this definitely had to be the only constant and I appreciate you letting me do what I love so thank you so, so much for all of your support and love!**

* * *

><p><strong>Rachel Corcoran –<strong> January 2012

_(Part II)_

For the most part, Noah Corcoran believes in chaos.

He knows that he isn't the smartest person in the world, hell he isn't even the smartest person in his own household but earlier in the school year, Noah _had_ been roped into taking a physics class by his guidance counselor, convinced that it would provide a little extra something on his transcripts to show the college scouts coming his way in droves.

He failed. No, really his grade had been deemed unsalvageable within the first month.

Noah struggled to pass remedial math. He remains uncertain to this day why anybody had thought physics to be a good idea. Luckily, the same guidance counselor that had placed him in the class had been gracious enough to have him removed before he could be given an opportunity to further embarrass himself but if there was one lesson that Noah _did_ learn in the handful of weeks that he had been present, it was that for the most part, he believes in chaos.

It was the natural order of the universe – chaos – or _entropy_ as his teacher always called it... It was simply fascinating to Noah the idea that the world has a tendency to narrow inwards upon the most chaotic order of events possible although in the long run, Noah knows that deep down, he had known this fact his whole life.

The thing that fascinated Noah so much was the confirmation that he had wasted his entire life believing that he could ever make a difference.

"_Santana was hurt, Noah..."_

His heart stops so quickly that it skids with a painful ricochet against his ribs. He can feel every single motion – the prominent loss of rhythm, the hollow calm that its absence leaves deep down inside of the pit of his chest. His eyes are forced to a close but he should know that nothing is enough to protect him from the truth anymore.

It's starting to get more difficult for him to breathe...

_Chaos_.

Noah cannot seem to stop thinking about the universe. His head is swirling. There are certainly enough thoughts inside of his brain to at least _fill_ it...

Solar systems exist in a scale larger than a human being can possibly comprehend. It's amazing how truly small a single, individual person is when compared to things like mountains or the sky or the stars...

"I... what... how..." All of the questions that he wants to ask combine into one illogical jumble of a sentence. He thinks that he is so used to confidence, it is starting to strike Noah that every time he tells himself that he is in control, it is nothing more than a lie.

Even his own mother stops in her furiously determined motions in order to see why her son has made such an abrupt stop.

"Noah, is everything okay?" At first, Noah believes it to be his mother speaking to him but he quickly realizes that he has been quiet for so long that Quinn has been forced to prompt him over the phone. Her voice shakes him sharply back into a reality that Noah isn't so certain that he wants to be a part of anymore.

"I..." He opens his mouth but it closes on its own accord just as quickly... He doesn't want to say everything that he has stored in between his ears over the phone. "I'm fine... It's just... something just came up with Rachel, Quinn and I... I need to stay with her right now." His voice shakes but it is barely noticeable. _Stay calm, Noah_, he tells himself. _Stay calm_. "I'll be down in a couple of minutes, okay? I promise I'll be there."

"Of course, I understand..." Quinn breathes. She follows Noah's lead in keeping her head cool despite the fact that on the inside, the only thing that she wants to do is scream, to _beg_ Noah to be down here for them. "I'll hold down the fort until then. I'll text you if we get any news, okay?"

"Yeah..." Noah's response is despondent. He cannot tell Quinn not to bother, that he already knows the news – especially when he knows that he does not _know_ the news per se. He refuses to be the one to stir the pot, so instead Noah simply holds tightly onto the back of his neck and points his eyes downwards towards the floor in an attempts to concentrate on the pattern of his keds. "Yeah, okay..."

Noah hangs up the phone before Quinn has the opportunity to respond.

Breathing heavily, he slips the device into his back pocket before pressing his back tight against the wall of the crowded stairwell. The rail digs painfully into his lower back. All around him, people swerve to avoid the obstacle that his broad body has since become, turning their heads angrily in order to flash back to him, dirty looks that Noah hardly notices.

Noah tries desperately not to psyche himself out. He tries not to jump to conclusions but this is difficult to do when they all seem to clear and laid out in front of him.

"Noah, what happened?" He jumps at the hand on his shoulder. His mind blanks just as he is beginning to convince himself that it _is_ a Saturday night. That there must have been a million different car accidents in Lima alone. That this is not necessarily Santana. That it _can't_ be Santana...

Looking up, Noah watches his mother eye him with the utmost concern in her expression... He has that look inside of his face, he knows that he _must_ – those deep, brooding eyes, piercing with the hint of green that only ever emerges when he's struggling with a plethora of varying emotions such as that by which he has experienced in these past several minutes...

Whatever reason that may be.

He finds comfort in the idea that it is impossible to read exactly what it is that he is thinking. The reason that Noah is so certain of this is because not even he is truly sure what he is thinking himself. He suddenly wonders whether gazing into his eyes in this moment is as vast and uncertain as gazing into the open universe...

Why the hell can't he stop thinking about the damn universe?

"Nothing..." He forces himself to stand up straight as he shrugs away from his mother's touch... Not even he is entirely sure how much time he has allowed to pass between her question and his response. It could have been seconds, hell it could have been hours. He can only hope that whatever it was, it was good enough. "That was Quinn. Everything's fine, she just... she ran into a little glitch in her plans but... Listen, I'll tell you later ma, okay? Let's just focus on Rachel for right now."

He speaks simultaneously to convince both her as well as himself that everything is fine, that everything is going to _be_ fine – with Santana, with Rachel, with him...

But this is an action that is much easier said than it is done.

Noah embraces a sudden surge of energy – however temporary it may be – and powers forward. Pushing past Shelby, he is practically sprinting up the length of the stairs.

His mother follows but even she can barely keep up, her motions losing that once powerful gait, fueled by a hope that was suddenly starting to flicker. Her senses are already heightened. She's worried. She's just about as nervous a wreck as a parent can get at the moment, but Noah is right...

For now, they have to keep going.

"Okay..." Shelby hums steadily, more to herself. She doubts very much that Noah can hear her from his position, already at the landing of the stairs...

Shelby marches forwards in the wake of her son's footsteps. She is an expert at walking through life one foot after the other and through their bid to focus all energy upon Rachel, they achieve prevention of a total breakdown in the process...

For now...

* * *

><p><em>It's difficult to pinpoint a definitive point that life goes back to normal.<em>

_But then again after your world has been jolted to a standstill for so long, even the most miniscule of movements could be considered towards progress._

_ It had started with a swift punishment after Shelby had caught her son red-handed, scribbling in crayon all over the living room walls. Later, it was a bill that she had actually managed to pay on time and then, a refrigerator that contained something other than outdated, molding dairy products..._

_ Eight weeks following Rachel's stem cell transplant, Shelby brings her daughter home with an air of permanence behind her motions and suddenly, the muddled haze that has been clouding her vision for the better half of the last year finally begins to clear again._

_For the first time in a long time, Shelby finally feels comfortable in saying that things are actually going well for a change. _

_Rachel's body has been producing its own, healthy cells for weeks now. Her daughter in herself is lively, she's energetic, she is starting to emerge once more beyond the shell that cancer has reduced her to; the ghost of what every four year old should have the opportunity to be finally slipping through the cracks. _

_ Her little girl is slowly starting to come back to her. _

_ But nobody places blame when Shelby proves to be as much of a nervous wreck inside of the hospital as she had been at home... Of course, Shelby sees the glances that her sister shoots at her every time she panics over a playtime activity that the mother deems too dangerous. She notices the annoyance inside of her parents' eyes every time they are cooking for the family only to be constantly reminded that a strict, vegan died is what is best to assist Rachel's road to recovery but Shelby reckons that this will be a habit that lingers inside of her for a long time to come... She likes to assume that it will fade eventually – time healing all wounds as it tends to do – but on most days it feels as though she will be hovering over Rachel for the rest of her life. _

_In the week that Rachel has been home with them, sleep has not been something that Shelby has been seeing a lot of. Every time she actually gets an opportunity to lay down inside of her own bed, Shelby is overcome by an almost obsessive urge to check on Rachel..._

_ Just one more time – she always tells herself - but it is never enough._

_ Instead, Shelby watches the comfortable bliss of slumber from the outside looking in. She feels as though she has a set of newborns again, constantly being reminded of those first harrowing weeks that she had brought Noah home from the hospital terrified of each and every little piece of harm imaginable that might make its way inside of his bassinet and cause him harm..._

_She had felt the same, unadulterated fear when Rachel had been born, only exasperated fifty times over._

_Shelby had done the same for both of her children, lie awake and watch them breathe, convinced that they would somehow forget how to do so on their own the second that she stopped looking..._

_ That particular feeling – even Shelby must admit – had gotten easier with time, but still to a mother, it never truly goes away in its entirety._

_ But that was a long time ago..._

_ It was a time when Rachel and Noah had still believed that mom and dad possessed the capacity to save them from all of the horrors of the world; a time before they had come to the understanding that mom was only human and dad was, well... nothing._

_ Shelby worries about both of her children equally all the time and she understands full well that it is her job never to stop doing so but finally, things are actually starting to settle..._

_ After one week of insisting upon spending her nights propped against the open door frame of Rachel's bedroom, watching her child sleep while simultaneously refusing to commit to the motion herself, Shelby is finally feeling comfortable enough to settle inside of her own bed once more, closing her eyes and breathing controlled, the peaceful air of quiet solitude._

_She is startled awake by a crash._

_The leaping of her heart propels her upwards from her bed. The mother moves so quickly that it creates the illusion that she is flying as she races automatically towards Rachel's room without so much as a second thought._

_ Shelby finds her daughter huddled in the center of her bedroom. The oversized pink princess pajamas that had in fact been too small for her six months ago are drenched in sweat although she is trembling with cold as her feet carry her in an unsteady zigzag towards Shelby's direction... She had been trying desperately to reach her mother but she is shaking so hard that she had knocked her nightstand as well as all of its contents to the ground instead. _

_If only she had been there, Shelby thinks but quickly forces the thought out of her head. _

"_Momma, what was that?" Shelby can hear her son's curious voice inquiring towards the intrusion of his sleep but she does not have the time to produce the answers that she is not so certain of herself. Instead, Shelby pushes herself forwards towards Rachel, trying desperately to use her own body to block any views of his sister that Noah might have for fear of him experiencing the overwhelming terror inside of his own chest that she is currently feeling herself. _

"_Noah honey, stay out here with me..." Shelby is grateful for her sister's intrusion as she marches her way up the stairs and does what she does best – interferes... But Shelby does not pause to take the time to thank her. Instead, she bends forwards at the waist and scoops Rachel up inside of her arms, holding her head closely to her chest, directly over her racing heart. _

_ "Rachel sweetheart, what's the matter?" Shelby asks the question out of necessity. The head that is currently radiating within the small space left between their bodies is enough to give Shelby at least a hint as to what the answer to her own question may be... "Oh my God, you're burning up..." Shelby doesn't give the opportunity for Rachel to speak for herself. Instead, Rachel bursts into tears inside of her arms, the action catching inside of her throat until she is overcome by a steady set of hiccups that emit rapidly from her mouth every couple of seconds. _

_ Between this and her unsteady gait, Shelby can't help but to wonder whether or not this is what it will be like the first time that she catches Rachel stumbling home drunk from a high school party. _

_She pushes the thought out of her head, reminding herself that they must get there first._

_Clutching Rachel even tighter against her own body, Shelby can't help but notice the girl flinching inside of her arms, her muscles tensing as Rachel begins to release a howling wail of pain that startles Shelby so much, she nearly drops Rachel to the ground._

_ Shelby's fingers tighten reflexively with support, but Rachel pushes herself away. The mother does not bother trying to pretend that it does not eat away at her heart when Rachel's tiny hands push hard against Shelby's breastbone in an effort to escape. _

_ "Rachel honey, what's the matter..." Rachel climbs out of her arms easily, her overwhelmed mother staring onwards as the child crawls into a ball at her feet, her body positioned into a strategic fetal position as Rachel's thumb automatically goes to her mouth and her back arches in an effort to avoid contact with the ground at all costs..._

_ Suspicious, Shelby forces herself into a squat, her movements gentle as she bends at the knees and reaches outward, lifting the shirt of Rachel's pajamas as gently as she can possibly manage, exposing the ragged skin of her stick thin back, each vertebrae popping out violently as to further expose the angry red, blistering welts that are slowly spreading their way up and down the length of Rachel's spine._

* * *

><p>"Shelby, Noah I understand that things are moving rather quickly right now..."<p>

Sitting inside of Dr. McCarthy's private office, Noah decides that the term _moving quickly_ is a vast understatement...

In a testament towards the lightning pace that is currently being taken amongst the bewildered family, the doctor does not even wait until they are seated before he begins to speak.

They don't so much as have time to breathe.

"That's okay..." Shelby can barely contain her beaming smile. She is radiant, practically singing her words, she is so overjoyed...

Noah's eyes linger across her shining features, soaking up the image of seeing his mother genuinely happy for the first time since he can remember... But he cannot seem to match her enthusiasm. His thoughts are slowly closing in on themselves, pinching his brain shut and swelling his skull with the pressure so that Noah swears, he is ready to blow at any second.

"Listen, I know that you two are excited about this change in events and you have every reason to be. It is nothing short of a miracle that this donor has come along..."

Noah reacts physically to the doctor's words. His breath hitches inside of his throat releasing a throaty grasp that luckily, nobody notices in their excitement... Dr. McCarthy just speaks with such ease, so casually...

_This donor..._

It bites unsettling at Noah's tongue, the sudden remind that _this donor_ may in fact be much more personal than that phrase can ever suggest.

"Can we find out who it is?" Noah interrupts the doctor, asking the question despite himself. He is bursting with an impatience that is sprouted by fear. He himself has done an okay job at convincing himself of the impossibilities, the unlikelihood that Santana is in fact Rachel's donor, but there is still something missing; that final confirmation, that outside source telling him that he had been stupid for over-worrying himself about the impossible for so long. "The donor, I mean. Can we find out who she is?"

"No," The doctor shakes his head with a hint of regret but it's nothing to support Noah's heart as it sinks to the floor for what seems like the millionth time this day alone. He tries not to place the blame upon the man that sits before them, the man that has done so much for their family over the years. Even Noah knows that it would be impossible for Dr. McCarthy to possibly predict the reason that Noah so desperately needs the answers that he does... But he needs to blame _somebody_ for his current predicament and not even his usual route of blaming himself is working... "Unfortunately that won't be a possibility right now. These days, the law is relatively strict regarding the terms of patient confidentiality. If you had interest in reaching out to the donor's family, you would have to do so through a legal team that would then in turn approach the family about the option... Only if they approved would you be able to physically meet them..."

"Oh." He sinks, disheartened by complication.

"But listen, the reason that I asked you guys to come to my office is because I need you to understand that while this transplant is an amazing opportunity for Rachel, in her diminished health, the risks far out weigh the possibility of success. There are still a lot of potential complications that we will have to consider. We still have a lot of hurdles to face."

His face darkens seriously leaving Noah hard pressed to reserve his desire to scream. He is overwhelmed with the sense that tonight stands an opportunity for him to lose everything that he can possibly stand to lose... Santana may already be gone. Rachel can be next... He forces himself into submission with the reminder that he is not quite there...

Yet.

His and Shelby's bodies sink simultaneously besides each other, creating the illusion that all of the air has suddenly been deflated from the room.

They lean instinctively inwards and closer towards the doctor, neither certain that they _want_ the details that this man has strategically omitted until the final possible moment in order to minimize panic but understanding that the choice is not currently theirs to make.

"I'm sure that you are both well aware what a high risk operation that this will be for Rachel..." Shelby and Noah bob their heads uniformly in recognition of the idea that the thought has indeed crossed their minds... Just a couple of hours ago, Rachel's doctors had been voicing their concern of the risks posed simply by moving her via ambulance a handful of blocks down the road back to her own home. Major surgery, well this was something entirely different. "We're taking a huge chance here, and I understand that the options are not promising nor or they easy but I need to be very honest with you; the chance that Rachel's body is much too fragile to sustain the pressures caused by a surgery of this magnitude are... concerning."

His words are careful and deliberate. Noah reacts to them audibly; a physical, scoffing tone of disapproval emitting from the base of his throat. The room silences. All eyes turn towards him, lingering intently so that Noah grows distinctly embarrassed.

"Noah," Dr. McCarthy's voice drips with sympathy. "Are you okay?"

Noah blinks rapidly in response to the question. Silently, he believes this to be a stupid thing to be asking somebody in his position, but Noah chooses not to say so...

The world slows to a near halt; a sluggish pace that leaves him feeling exhausted and run down. He has absolutely no concept of how much time passes in between the doctor's question and his response, but if he had to estimate his guess would be _hours_. It is a force of habit that Noah has been noticing a lot lately – his ability to allow time to slip past him quicker than he can keep up with...

This has never been more apparent to him than it is right now.

"I just don't think that not doing the surgery is really an option..." He makes his brutally honest opinion known, blatantly ignoring the part where he had been asked about _himself. _"If we don't do that then what do we do? We take Rachel home and spend the next couple of days watching her die?"

His voice projects a confidence that not even he is certain he has. Besides him, his mother reacts to his bluntness. He can feel her muscles tensing violently in response from directly besides him.

"At least with the surgery she gets a chance." A surge of energy projects him forwards confidently, fueled by the understanding that to take this risk is their last possible option if they wanted to keep this family together. "This isn't about quality over quantity anymore, it's about desperate times calling for desperate measures."

"Shelby... What do you think?" The doctor nods before turning his attention upon the mother because ultimately, it was what she believed that would make all the difference in the end.

She takes a shuddering breath. Her face is stale, sour as though even that simplest of motions has caused her unbearable pain. Shelby's eyes slide closed, all of her energy and focus channeling to her brain, willing it to make the right decision as though it were that easy.

She knows what is inside of her heart but she fears reacting brashly, terrified of making the wrong decision in a fleeting moment of temporary relief that has clouded rationality.

Shelby tries desperately to place her decision not in terms of herself, but in terms of her daughter. She puts into consideration, everything that Rachel has been saying in these painful last couple of days, how hard she had fought against this surgery, but only in terms of her brother's future...

"_I don't know how much longer I can do it, mom..."_

Had Rachel been speaking in a fleeting moment of weakness or was she really as ready to stop this fight as she had sounded on the day that she had confided this secret upon Shelby...

"Noah is right..." She whispers her final conclusion after several elongated seconds spent fighting an internal battle that her gut feeling had ultimately won. "Rachel didn't want to take the risk with her brother's kidney, but this is a new opportunity. We have nothing left to lose. I think that we would be foolish not to take it."

"Okay." The doctor nods through a smile, trying desperately not to show a favorable bias towards Shelby's decision but unable to control the emotions displayed in his expression entirely.

His movements are instantaneous as though Shelby's words had lit the fire that he needed to get going beneath the seat of his chair. He acts sharply and excited as though he had been waiting for this distinct go ahead from Shelby this entire time as he drums together a stack of paperwork as thick as Shelby is tall.

"Then I'm going to need you sign a couple of things for me."

Shelby flips quickly through the papers. They settle heavy like a boulder inside of her hands as her eyes skim briefly through the outline, under the impression that should she actually take her time to sit and read through every single word of every single sheet, they will _all_ be dead and buried by the time she is done.

Her hand dances across the X marked dotted line splayed across the bottom right hand corner of every page that awaits her signature until her fingers begin to cramp painfully from the constant motion.

The risks seem insurmountable. A small, nervous sweat formulates across Shelby's forehead as she forces herself forwards, trying to convince herself that all of this is nothing more than precaution, that all of these side effects, these complications rarely, if ever actually happen...

Of course, Shelby has learned not to place much risk on the fates of chance.

It is the potential complications of general anesthesia. The risks that come hand in hand with the before, during _and _care of kidney transplantation – infection, organ rejection, blood loss... It's the acknowledgment of just how lengthy the recovery time that Rachel will face will be, the understanding that this procedure _is_ in fact in Rachel's best interest and that Shelby knows _why_ everything that is happening is actually happening...

It feels like hours before she reaches the end – the physical consent to surgery that has Shelby freezing for the first time throughout this entire process.

Her hand trembles as it hovers above the paper, the tip of the pen pressing violently against the line but never actually moving...

Shelby pauses briefly, she breathes with careful, controlled motions and mutters a silent prayer to God that this is the right thing to do before finally, she marks Rachel's second chance in the form of her own signature.

* * *

><p><em>Emergency Room's are rarely silent but today must be a record breaking quiet night.<em>

_The small family sits silent inside of the familiar, curtained-off cubicles lining the back of the ER. Noah is adorned in an array of mismatched clothing that Shelby had carelessly plucked from his closet in her rush to shuffle them out of the door. He is sound asleep, wrapped tightly inside of the comforter that Shelby had cocooned Rachel into for the car ride._

_ Perched at the side of Rachel's bed, his hand has been nuzzled protectively inside of his sister's since their arrival... Shelby embraces the moment but only because she understands that Noah is starting to come to that age where he will not often volunteer to hold his little sister's hand. _

_ She almost wishes that she had her camera... Shelby has a million photographs lining the walls and mantlepiece of her home, each representing an image of her and her children growing together._

_ When you compare Rachel and Noah at the same age, they look so much alike you can hardly tell a single difference between them. _

_ But six months ago, all photography, all memories had come to an abrupt halt in the silent agreement that this was a time that none would like to encase inside of a glass frame in order to provide memories..._

_Shelby chews nervously on her thumbnail. _

_The day that Rachel had come home from the hospital following her stem cell transplant, the mother had panicked in her wonderment towards whether or not she would be able to appropriately react to a situation on the list the doctor's had provided her with of emergency scenarios requiring immediate medical attention..._

_ Now that Shelby had seen what Rachel had looked like tonight, she cannot believe that she had ever questioned her ability to judge what sick looks like. Especially after all that she has already been through. _

"_Mrs. Corcoran..."_

_When the doctor comes in, he speaks quietly. It is very late at night – or very early in the morning, Shelby cannot be entirely certain – and with two small children fast asleep in her mist, it is a motion that Shelby forces herself to appreciate. _

_ Rachel's admitting physician is a young man that still wears a lab coat with the words 'Wayne State University School of Medicine' stitched across his heart. _

_ He is a resident. He is barely out of school – a school that Shelby has never even heard of – and a part of her has been stuck questioning his authenticity all night, questioning his ability to be trusted with something as precious to Shelby as her daughter's life. _

_ "Dr. Heller." Her voice is strained with both uncertainty as well as an urgent softness as she rises to her feet. "How is she?"_

_ "Rachel is going to be just fine." He issues the promise with a supportive bob of the head that has Shelby exhaling with relief so loudly she forgets the idea that no less than five seconds ago, she had been questioning this man's capacity as a medical professional. "She contracted shingles. It's a skin condition that arises from the chicken pox virus."_

_ "But I thought that you couldn't get that twice?" Shelby's eyebrows raise with confusion alongside the reminder that despite an impressive understanding of the inner workings of leukemia that can put even the best molecular biologists to shame, her capacity as an honorary physician ends there._

_ When Rachel had been two years old besides her brother's four, Shelby had intentionally exposed the both of them to the chicken pox upon finding out that the boy from the apartment complex next door to them in New York had come down with a case from his day care... Her heart suddenly constricts with guilt, she is overwhelmed with the shame of the idea that she herself had brought upon this unnecessary extra pain onto her already fragile daughter herself. _

_ "It's not entirely uncommon for patients immediately following a stem cell transplant." The doctor explains quickly, "Remember, Rachel's body is still trying to learn how to fend for itself. Her immune system is vulnerable right now and it makes her prone to these sorts of infections – flare ups, if you will – of past viruses that naturally hoard themselves latent in the system following initial exposure... Frankly, I'm surprised it took so long to get Rachel here to the ER..."_

_ "Excuse me?" Shelby senses the hint of an accusation behind his voice and her eyebrows raise so high that they get lost inside of her hair._

_ "I didn't mean to offend..." His hands raise defensively in front of him, "It's just that for the rash to have spread as it has, it is easy for us to assume that Rachel must have been in a relatively decent amount of pain for the last twenty four hours or so..."_

_ "That's impossible..." Shelby shakes her head disbelievingly. She is finding it increasingly difficult to trust this man who, every time he opens his mouth, only seems to tell her things that she doesn't want to believe. "Rachel would have told me... She knows how important it is to tell me when she isn't feeling well..." _

_ "Of course..." The doctor nods in an effort to avoid confrontation but Shelby can practically read his mind. She is embarrassed to think that she must sound like all of the other blubbering mother's that he comes across on a daily basis; those inexperienced, foolish, naïve women who think that they know everything about their child's well being without fail..._

_Shelby hasn't felt like this since the day that Rachel had been diagnosed. She can feel the heat flushing against her cheeks as they burn red with embarrassment._

_The more that she thinks about it, the more she can't help but to remember how strangely Rachel has been acting all day..._

_ It had started with her insistencies to dress herself on her own this morning, then her downright refusal to take a bath... Shelby wants to smack herself for failing to see all of the red flags immediately, even after they had progressed throughout the day – the temper tantrums, hiding inside of her bed all day... _

_ Shelby's face drops inside of her hands. Rachel had always been such a determinedly independent little girl that the mother had barely thought twice about her behavior but now it was all starting to make sense... _

_ She wants nothing more than to cry but knows that this is not an option in front of this stranger that she's already made enough of a fool out of herself in front of as it is. _

"_I'm sorry..." Shelby compromises with an apology but this doesn't even come close to easing the unease currently boiling inside of the pit of her stomach. "That was rude of me, I'm just... I guess I'm just a little bit on edge."_

_ "Mrs. Corcoran, please," He waves off her need to apologize with a soft, genuine smile. His eyes glow a miraculous shade of blue beneath the fluorescent lighting dangling above them, offering a strange display of comfort that has her own red-rimmed, exhausted eyes finally feeling comfortable enough to meet with his own. "If there is any parent that has an excuse to be a little bit over protective, it is you... And if it makes you feel better, you are much easier than the mother who was convinced that her son was bit by a Black Widow spider that I saw earlier this morning... Turns out the boy stabbed himself with his fork by accident while he was eating lunch." _

_ "Thank you..." Shelby's face softens. This time, when she laughs, she genuinely means it as she reaches up with a single finger to swipe away at the small traces of tears that she has involuntarily allowed to slip from beyond the corners of her eyes. _

_ "Rachel is a remarkably strong little girl. She's one of the most resilient children I have ever come across. You should be very proud." _

_ "I am..." Shelby insists quickly and she is proud, hell, there probably isn't a parent alive that is more proud of their children than Shelby is of hers, but that doesn't mean that she isn't silently terrified of Rachel's recent stubborn streak that she has inherited so exactly from her mother it's scary._

_ "And she will be fine... We'll put her on some anti-histamines to try and keep her scratching, and we've already given her acetaminophen to help with the pain and to bring down her fever but you should be able to take her home by tomorrow... Don't worry, Rachel is still on the path to recovery."_

_ "Are you sure?" Turning back onto old habits, Shelby questions the doctor's expertise once more. She is uncertain and overwhelmed with guilt. She has to be sure. _

_ "Positive," He smiles in confirmation, sounding experienced so that Shelby knows that he must have been down this road once or twice before – terrified parents failing to believe even the best of his assurances..._

_ "Okay..." Shelby nods hesitantly, but still, she doesn't sound entirely sure of herself._

_ "I'm going to go see what I can do about rushing Rachel to get upstairs and into a room... We'll get you out of here in no time."_

_ "Thank you..." Shelby expresses her gratitude out of necessity. It is not as though she isn't gracious for his efforts, it is just that she can't bring herself to believe that this feeling inside of her chest will be settled by moving Rachel into any room that is not her own..._

"_Momma..."_

_Shelby's eyes tear like lightning away from the doctor's retreating frame. Rachel is squirming uncomfortably inside of her bed, fidgeting against yet another pain that she cannot possibly understand._

_ Shelby can see the tears inside of her daughter's eyes from across the room._

_ "Rachel honey, what are you doing awake?" Shelby bolts forwards, moving as quickly as her feet will possibly allow, the handful of paces that separate her from her terrified daughter. _

_ "I wanna go home." Rachel pouts miserably from inside of her bed, voice thick and laden with a clear resistance towards the sleep that her body so desperately craves. Her bottom lip is trembling with tears. She is shaking so hard that Shelby has to reach out and grab a hold of her shoulders simply to ensure that she doesn't fall out of bed. "Please, mommy... I wanna go home!"_

_ "I'm sorry sweetheart, we can't go home quite yet..." Shelby coos, her voice gentle and melodic as her hand reaches outwards automatically and nestles Rachel's own. _

_ "But I want to!" Her four year old is sick and she's tired and moody. Her voice raises with a projection of her desires, pushing Shelby's hand away from her in an expression of distaste towards not getting her way... _

_ The mother reels only slightly, trying to pretend as though it doesn't hurt like hell to be proven once more just how little she can actually do to make her daughter feel better._

_ "I know you do Rachel but right now you have to be patient and wait until you feel a little bit better..." Shelby struggles to explain the situation in terms that a four year old might understand – even one as experienced as Rachel. She is sensing a pattern lately, finding it increasingly difficult to convince a girl that only ever does what she is asked only to get absolutely nothing in return that one day, things will get better. "Mommy is right here and so is Noah and the two of us are going to stay right here with you until you get better and then maybe tomorrow we can go back home."_

_ Shelby's face falls. She watches carefully as Rachel's expression shifts in an effort to conceal all that she is feeling right now... Arms crossed her chest, mouth contorted into a permanent pout, Rachel is so young but suddenly, she looks so old in her moment of weakness and all of the despair that it has resulted in. _

"_Baby, why didn't you tell me that you weren't feeling well?" The question slips from Shelby's mouth without her particularly expecting it to. She doesn't mean to interrogate her four year old while she is sick inside of a hospital bed, but if there is one thing that Shelby hates more than anything, it is being left in the dark when it comes to her own children, especially when they are hurting this bad. _

_ "I don't wanna talk about it..." Rachel mutters into her lap, her eyes looking down and away from Shelby. _

_ "Rachel..." Shelby insists, her long fingers dancing beneath Rachel's chin, tilting her head up gently so that their identical eyes are forced to meet once more._

_ She is wearing an expression that practically forces Rachel to talk and Shelby takes advantage of a time when this task will still be considered relatively easy... Shelby is not stupid enough to believe that the passing years will slow down before they speed up and as it is, she is worried about Rachel and Noah's teenage years already. _

_She thinks that they are impossible now but she knows that she hasn't seen anything yet._

"_I was scared that it would make you mad." Her tiny voice is barely above a whisper. _

_ "Oh honey..." Shelby's expression softens as her hand reaches downwards to grab a tight hold onto Rachel's. "I will never be mad at you for being sick, you know that... Do you remember what I told you the first day that you were in the hospital?" _

_ "That it makes you sad when me and Noah don't feel good and that you want me to be better again but sometimes you need help from the doctors too..." Rachel recites the words that Shelby had spoken to her more than six months ago nearly verbatim... _

_ "You're right..." Shelby nods, struggling to collect herself amidst her astonishment towards her daughter's remarkable memory... She had not expected Rachel to remember. She had not expected her to have held those words so closely to her heart. "Now listen to me, Rachel. I don't want you to ever hide that you aren't feeling well from me ever again, okay?" _

_ "Okay." _

_ "Good... We'll be home soon, baby girl," Shelby delivers the promise, lowering the head of Rachel's bed until the girl is flat on her back, tucking the blankets just a little bit tighter around her small body. "Now get some sleep. I promise you that I will make you all better again very soon..."_

"_No matter what it takes."_

* * *

><p>"Noah! Noah, wait!"<p>

Noah's frantic motions from Dr. McCarthy's private office back into the hallway are urgent and full of a distinct purpose.

He can hear his mother shouting after him – he would have to be deaf not to – but tries his absolute hardest to ignore it because he is not ready to have the conversation with her that he knows he will have to eventually...

He silently wonders if he ever will be.

"Noah!" This time it is not a request but a demand. She catches up with him with a surprising ease, her hand snaking across his muscular shoulder, pulling him to a halt with an impressive force.

When he does turn around to face her, Shelby's stare is urgent yet careful, hinted with the sense of a deep-set panic that has guilt blooming like flower pedals across Noah's chest.

This was supposed to be a celebration.

It is only after she has his undivided attention that she grabs him by the elbow, pulling him into the solitude of a small alcove at the edge of the hall. The hospital is packed, but Shelby does what she can to make it at least appear as though it is only him and her, and for her efforts Noah is appreciative.

"Noah, you need to talk to me. Something is going on, I know that look in your eyes. What happened on the phone with Quinn before?" She is begging him to open up to her but he can't help but to be reluctant.

Noah hates emotions. Lord knows he is used to them but still, they're awkward and uncomfortable, and despite their frequency inside of his life, they are something that you never really get used to.

"If you don't talk to me, Noah than how do you expect me to be able to help you?" She responds to his silence with a hint of desperation. Noah doesn't have the heart to tell her that he doesn't expect her to be able to help him. He doesn't expect _anybody _to ever be able to help him ever again, and that is his biggest problem.

"Quinn..." Noah finally eases forward, "She was... she was supposed to come to the house... to see Rachel..."

"Right..." Shelby nods respectively towards the information, egging him on as her head cocks in an indication that she is prepared to listen to the information that she so desperately craved with a trite attentiveness.

"After they took Rachel to pre-op, she called me... in the stairwell. She was... she was downstairs with Brittney in the ER because..." Noah pauses, breathing steadily. He swallows mid-sentence, experiments with his wording before he actually says anything. "Santana was in a car accident, mom..."

"Oh my God, is she okay... Oh Noah, honey I'm sure she's..." Shelby stops herself mid-sentence. She is halfway to trying to ease her son's fears with an assurance that she could never be certain of when the words break and fray at their edges, burning to dust at the tip of her tongue.

Her dark eyes glisten with understanding, her face sinking so far inside of her own body that Noah can hardly even recognize it himself. Her lips shape into a soft O, a silent motion of understanding towards the fact that she now sees everything that he does.

"I think... I think that Rachel's donor might be Santana, mom..." They are both thinking it, but Noah has to say something anyway. Somehow, it relaxes him – that sheer display of panic scribbled inside of his mother's face – and as sadistic as it may sound, it is a comfort to know that he is not the only once immersed inside of this overwhelming feeling of despair clouding what he knows should be one of the happiest moments they've had to boast in these last few months.

"Okay... okay, Noah you can't panic, okay?" Shelby's voice contradicts everything that she is trying to tell him, making it incredibly difficult for him to follow her instruction. "We can't go jumping to any sorts of conclusions right now."

"I don't know what to do mom..." He blatantly ignores her as his breathing increases. He _is_ panicking. How could he not? "I'm happy about Rachel but... I don't think that I should be... What if it is Santana? Then what do we do?"

"Oh Noah, come here..." Words suddenly escape her. Without a physical means to produce an answer for her son's impossible question, she instead pulls him forwards and into her body, wrapping her arms tightly across the back of his broad shoulders. He leans into the touch like he hasn't done since he was a child, embracing the comfort that he knows can only be provided from inside of his mother's arms. "It's going to be alright, Noah. I promise that everything is going to be okay."

Noah's breath hitches painfully for several tense seconds as he attempts to control the tears building behind his eyes.

"You can't promise that?" He finally manages before he lets go, overwhelmed by the sensation of red-hot tears as they begin to stream with a sudden force, uninhibited down his cheeks.

"No," Shelby only holds him tighter. Watching him cry, it feels as though she has been pushed off of the edge of a steep cliff.

"But I can do the best that I can."

When Noah finally calms long enough to be trusted within the sensitive walls of the emergency department, his head is still ballooned inside of a fuzzy haze.

He feels as though he is floating and is willing to swear that his feet do not touch the ground once during the entirety of his descent down.

Noah blacks out the journey in its entirety. He is inside of his mother's arms and the next thing that he remembers, he finds Quinn from afar, fighting with a triage nurse looking for answers.

Noah stops himself from shaking his head against the understanding that Quinn's efforts are not only characteristic of a newbie to the hospital life but are also – more importantly – completely futile.

Nurses are sworn to secrecy. No matter how much you beg them, they will never tell you what they know. Instead, they are hired for their cheeriness, to present as an alive and healthy presence within an otherwise desolate hospital as if to give the dying a standard by which to aim for...

They are on opposite sides of the room but still, the look inside of Quinn's eyes frightens him.

He has seen that expression before inside of his own face, so deep, so real... It is that lasting understanding, the one that tells the rest of the world beyond you that you have seen things that they cannot even possibly begin to imagine, that they wouldn't _want_ to imagine.

Their eyes finally meet. Quinn nods softly in greeting and Noah returns it, a silent understanding that they will both need each other right now in order to survive this seemingly impossible journey.

Santana's parents are at the end of the hallway. Her mother is inconsolable inside of her empty father's arms. Noah bites his tongue against the belief that they have absolutely no right to be grieving a daughter that they treated so terrible but his efforts are made easier by the idea that he is currently seeing all of the people that _need_ to say goodbye...

It's true.

Noah's feet carry him naturally towards a familiar face.

Quinn has given up in her efforts with the nurse, disappointed by her failures. If Noah had been here sooner, he would have told her not to hold her breath waiting for answers.

But he hadn't been there.

She sits down in a seat besides Brittney. One look at the blonde and it is clear that she has been besides herself. All of her energy has long since leaked out of her eyes. Her head falls limp inside of Quinn's lap, but Quinn's motions are equally uncharged as her fingers move absently through Brittney's hair. Her eyes stare straight ahead, absent. She makes no indication that she has seen Noah although he knows that she had.

Seeing Quinn allows Noah to understand that death does not always have to come in that holy wall of fire that the last couple of weeks have implied... Instead, it can also be invisible, silent in the night. It can sneak up on you, it can stab you in the back even when you least expect it...

No, _especially _when you least expect it.

When Quinn finally does acknowledge him, it is through nothing more than a small shake of her head. He doesn't know what to say.

To buy himself some time, Noah walks closer towards Quinn and Brittney until there is literally no more space for him to possibly more any further. He shoves his hands inside of his pockets. The sound of Brittney's empty wails only grows louder.

"I'm sorry that I called." Quinn breaks the silence. Her words are sincere, but dry. "With everything that's going on with Rachel, I didn't mean to take you away from her but... I didn't know what else to do."

"It's fine..."

"No it isn't." Quinn cuts him off sharply. Her eyes rut forwards in order to meet his own and for the first time, Noah notices the tears that are dancing around inside of them. "Nothing is ever going to be fine again... Don't you get it, Noah? Santana... she's... she's dead."

"Yeah..." Noah breathes, shuffling gently between his own two feet. "I know."

Quinn's mouth hangs open in surprise. Her lips shift in the silent formation of words that have yet to come to her before she manages to shake her head back into reality and finally ask the one question who's answer she is truly looking for.

"How?"

"We were... when you called me before, we were with Rachel getting her ready because the doctors, they wanted to send her home, you know..." Noah starts from the very beginning of his story because this is the easiest... He knows that he will need all of the time that he can possibly buy in order to cushion the blow. "Rachel's doctor came running in, all excited, you know? He said that Rachel wasn't gonna go home tonight, that there was girl that had been bought into the ER. That she was brain dead. That she was an organ donor..."

They linger inside of their silence for a long time.

Quinn's face is so shell-shocked that Noah can't even read her expression. She cannot possibly believe the fate of this world and what it it has decided to bear down upon them... On most days, Noah can't quite believe it either, but he understands that it takes a little bit of experience to learn how to tread with your feet still on the ground after being delivered such a tremendous blow...

"Oh my God..." When Quinn finally does speak, it is in a melting pot of confusion and undecipherable mutterings, expressions of disbelief that is already apparent based on the look in her face alone. "I don't... I can't... This is a dream. I _have_ to be dreaming, that is the only way... They're... they just said that they're getting ready to bring Santana into surgery. I didn't even think... it never crossed my mind that... that Rachel..."

He responds with his silence, allowing Quinn to piece together the complex puzzle for herself...

"She was with her _boyfriend..._ You know, Michael Glover, that worthless piece of trash from school..." Quinn spits venomously. Noah senses the danger behind her tone and cringes with fear towards her voice alone. "He was drunk. His car hit a patch of ice. Hit a tree."

"Is he...?" Noah's eyes widen, unable to finish his own sentence... His heart lurches inside of his chest. Not even his is entirely sure why his first reaction would be to ask about the status of the boy that had killed Santana with his stupidity, but he is overcome with a craving desire to know.

A part of him hopes that Michael Glover will be fine so that Noah will have the opportunity to murder him himself.

"He's fine." The anger towards this lack of justice is apparent on Quinn's voice. "It's not him that's going to be paying for his mistakes."

"But he'll... I mean, he'll go to jail... he'll..."

"Santana is dead, Noah!" Quinn's voice is sharp and angry and it takes the unfinished words right out of Noah's mouth. Inside of Quinn's arms, Brittney only cries louder. The sound cuts Noah like a knife. He is practically forced to back away.

"We need to stay positive..." Noah transitions with an unheard of optimism. His voice lowers as if to silently indicate for Quinn to follow his lead. Not even he is entirely certain where this is coming from.

"How?"

"By thinking about all of the people that are going to live tonight because of her." Noah reveals his secret, his only means for keeping himself upright in these surreal past couple of hours alongside the understanding that Quinn could use the help just as much as he could right about now. "Rachel included."

"That doesn't mean that I'm not gonna miss her..." Tears streak a voice previously stained with a rock solid edge. Noah recognizes her shifting through the stages of grief, that adrenaline rush of initial loss fading into utter disbelief. That sadness that weighs so heavily inside of your chest that it feels unlikely if not downright impossible that you will ever feel the light of happiness ever again...

"I know." He tells her and he prays that she believes him when he tells her that he _knows – _that really, he knows.

"Does it go away?" When she asks the question, Noah immediately spots that glint of recognition inside of her eyes... She believes him when he tells her that he knows because she knows that he knows more than anybody else just how badly life can hurt.

"Never."

"Hey, Noah..." His attempt towards guiding Quinn through the complicated roadway of her heartbreak is intercepted by an outsider, but he cannot say that he is disappointed to see his mother tentatively approaching them.

If there is one person on the face of this Earth that Noah knows understands pain, it is her.

Shelby pauses uncertainly halfway between Noah and Quinn and Santana's parents. She waves Noah over to her from afar, her head nodding behind her towards the Lopez' in an indication that she would like Noah's assistance in her attempts towards guiding the newcomers over the bridge and into their familiar land of desolate despair.

"Your mom wants you..." Quinn points out the obvious, recognizing Noah's open sigh of disinterest. "Go..." She shoves him towards the right direction but still, Noah cannot help but to resist.

The last thing that he wants to do right now is face Santana's parents. But his mother cannot afford to face his rebellious side right now, and as crappy as the Lopez' might have been to Santana, they were still grieving. They were still two parents that had lost their daughter tonight.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, I'm sorry for your loss..." His voice is robotic and not even he is entirely sure that it is sincere, but he is angry – understandably so – and Noah knows just how much _he_ hates it when people apologize to him for his family's situation...

So maybe it is unfair that he is choosing to exact revenge upon Santana's parents for failing to keep their daughter safe by any means necessary, but he needs to do _something_ in order to prevent himself from turning around and putting his fist through this ER wall... again.

This is simply the most humane way that Noah can think to alleviate his anger at the moment.

He makes the motion for a formal handshake, but Santana's mother – two times smaller than himself – pulls him into a bone crushing hug instead that surprises all of the air straight out of his lungs.

Noah grows immediately uncomfortable inside of the small woman's arms.

The Lopez' had never liked Noah and they had become accustomed to letting Santana know just how much they disapproved of him very early on in their relationship. Even in Noah's presence.

Noah is more than certain that he is the only one of Santana's significant others that they hated more than Brittney.

But Santana would always counter their claim by informing them that she loved him more than life itself. It was his energy, the way that things always seemed to happen whenever he was around her, the way that he made her feel so alive...

No, they had not liked Noah _before_ him and Santana had been dating. Nor had they liked him after. And they had definitely not liked Noah after the Corcoran's had been housing their daughter when they had kicked Santana out of her own home only for being who she was.

_Was_... He is already referring to her in the past tense.

When she finally does let Noah go, he reels back slightly in the unexpected nature of the embrace. She shies away slightly as if embarrassed, her eyes leaving the small group as they begin to shuffle uncomfortably amidst an awkward silence until a very deliberate cough placed strategically by Shelby interrupts.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, the reason that Noah and I actually wanted to speak with you... we, uh... we..." Shelby stutters nervously around her words as she struggles with an appropriate means by which to formulate them. Noah's eyebrows arch with intrigue. Even he is wondering what it is that his mother is prepared to say to these people. "My daughter, Rachel... She's been fighting cancer... leukemia, on and off for her entire life and a couple of weeks ago, she went into kidney failure and we hadn't been... we hadn't been able to find a donor." It is the Spark-Notes version of a complicated story but the reaction is still apparent; an understanding of exactly where this is headed. "We... Rachel is going to be getting another chance tonight. Because of Santana."

"Rachel..." The tiny Latina tests Rachel's name against her tongue. The R rolls thick with the heavy accent that Noah had never actually mastered an understanding of, but he catches every word tonight. "She will be getting my Santana's kidney?"

"Yes... She will be." Shelby's voice glistens. It is as though she is trying to emphasize her gratitude through her mere tone, as though words along are not enough to grab its magnitude. "And I... we... the three of us care very deeply about Santana. I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, but at the same our family cannot begin to thank you enough for the selfless gift that you have given us."

Shelby's eyes tear. Meanwhile, Noah is still trying his hardest not to scoff.

"Noah... Do you want to say anything?" Noah turns towards his mother, glaring at her as though she is crazy... In fact, he would like to say a lot of things right now, none of which would be particularly appropriate, leaving him to reason that he has absolutely nothing to say...

Nothing that he wouldn't regret anyway.

He is directly in the midst of shaking his head with a decisive _no_ when something comes to mind, a thought that strikes him with a sudden force, insisting that he swallow his own stubborn pride and look Santana's parents directly in the eyes, making the one request that he knows they cannot deny.

"Can I see her?"

* * *

><p>She looks like hell but Noah settles that under similar circumstances, he probably would to.<p>

He doesn't even recognize her beneath the layer of sheer bandages providing little effect in aiding Santana back to health. A tube feeds down her throat. It breathes for her with every mechanical pump. They keep her alive solely for the purpose of the organs which will in turn, keep others alive next.

Still, she looks so beautiful that he cannot seem to tear his eyes away.

Noah has been building up to this exact moment – saying goodbye – for so long now that he had previously believed himself invincible against its ill effects. But now that he is finally here, Noah finds himself at a loss. There are no words that could properly describe this feeling. He knows that everything that had once made Santana Santana is already gone.

But it wasn't supposed to be her. It was _never_ supposed to be her.

Death pulls him like a magnet towards her bed. These sort of things, they are just attracted to him and his family. It pulls against his heart painfully. It settles against his ribcage like a brick.

A long time ago, Noah had believed himself prepared for a pain of this magnitude, but he hadn't expected it to be like this. It feels as though everything that had ever been good in his life has suddenly been hollowed out of his body, forgotten... It is _happening_, and although it may not be happening in the manner that Noah had initially anticipated, it is indeed happening.

It's true... it's really true and he can promise that he will remember her for the rest of his life – and he will – but really, it won't matter. She won't know because she is gone and she's never coming back.

A moan of physical agony escapes from in between Noah's lips. Not even he recognizes his well trained voice. The only thing left for him to do is to concentrate on his breathing and try and keep himself from crying at the site of a husk that had once been his vibrant, over-opinionated, sassy girlfriend... It looks so strange to see her so still that he doesn't know what to do or say in response. For the first time in his entire life, Noah is at a complete and utter loss for words.

A part of him wants to leave but he knows that this is not an option. Instead, this is about facing death, but not alone... Noah would like to think that it's a concept that is much less frightening with somebody warm and waiting right besides her.

Briefly, he wonders if she will come back as somebody else. He wonders if he will spend the rest of her life looking for her everywhere that he goes.

Swallowing heavily, Noah reaches his hand cautiously outwards before retreating in fear once more. He performs this same motion several times before he finally manages to latch onto her hand. The second that he does, Noah knows that it is not hers any longer, and that is what had scared him the most.

Everything feels out of place. It feels insurmountably wrong. Wherever Santana is right now, it's not here. It's not with him.

Before, every time that Noah had been with Santana he had lost his definition. Never in a bad way, but instead in a remarkable visual display in which their edges would blur together in a sea of color that was almost overwhelming... To sit here tonight in her presence and to be able to recognize a distinct vision of who _he_ is compared to who _she_ is, it hurts terribly and Noah cannot seem to figure out a means by which to fix it.

Dry swallowing a handful of times, Noah realizes that he is at an absolute loss for words. He has absolutely no idea how to say goodbye for the girl that he cares so much about.

Tonight, it feels like a lifetime ago that they hadn't just been Noah and Santana but _Noah and Santana_. It feels like even longer, that love that he'd felt in those months that he'd believed her to be carrying his child, that feeling that the two of them were dancing on top of the world with nobody but each other...

Noah stares at Santana out of certainty that as long as he watches her long enough, eventually, she will have to wake up. Every time he hears a noise – an unidentifiable creak in the walls or the hum of a machine – Noah manages to briefly convince himself that it is her and with time, realizes that this half a second that he is gifted before he is reminded of the truth once more is the only reason that he still remains standing upright.

The only thing that he can seem to think about is his wonderment towards whether or not he had been wrong to ever let her go, and how much the decision would haunt him now that there was no longer any time left for him to fix it.

Santana Lopez had always existed with such a solid exterior, but on the inside, she was hurting. He'd always known this... She hated to be alone. _Hated_ it. Santana could never stand to be alone for more than a handful of minutes at a time. Noah is more than certain that Shelby had never picked up on all of those times that she had managed to sneak into his bedroom at night while she was supposed to be instead making herself comfortable on the couch, and it had worried him at first – the thought of them getting caught – but Shelby had been much too distracted at the time, and Santana much too lonely...

"_I want the night time, Noah..."_ She would always tell him. _"I want somebody to be with me in the dark. To hold me. To keep loving me no matter what and to help me when I'm too scared to help myself."_

He would never no how to respond to her deepest of fears. Most times, he would only wind up staring blankly ahead... Santana had only revealed her true nature to him _after_ they had stopped dating, but that didn't mean that they couldn't only fall even more in love.

_"What if I get it wrong?"_ He managed one night, flashing her that famous smile that she could never, ever help but to return.

_"It's impossible to get wrong."_ Noah had never realized that Santana's eyes could flash green under the right lighting until then... He loved the way that he could see her entire future stretching outwards into the night inside of them, but he always wondered if the effect really _was_ caused by the light emitted from his new lamp, or if this was just the first time that he had ever really seen her smile.

He would kill to see that smile, even if it was just one more time.

"Santana..." Eventually, he manages to formulate her name against his lips as he swallows uncomfortably against a single word. It tastes bitter against his tongue. Noah is already finding it difficult to recognize the syllables as they roll unfamiliar across his lips.

January was her absolute favorite month. She would also speak so fondly of the snow, how she loved the way that it made the world outside seem somehow brighter, even in the night time. Noah hated it but Santana was always at her happiest when her hands and feet and nose and ears were as cold as icicles. She'd say that it made it that much better to know that they would have to use each others bodies to keep themselves warm. The sunrise would filter inside through the windows and he would rub his hands up and down her freezing cold arms – prickly with goosebumps – before wrapping her into a bear hug, scooping her inside of his arms... He already missed falling asleep watching the glimmer of snow against each other's skin.

He has a lot of love. She _had_ a lot of love, but it wasn't nearly enough... He doesn't want her to be dead. He hasn't felt loved in this manner for nearly long enough...

"Remember that night right after the playoffs? The one at Chris Heisenberg's party... We sat outside all night even though it was freezing cold and I told you that I was going to take care of you... that I wasn't going to let anybody heart you."

With time, the words fall naturally from his tongue. Noah hangs his head. He is almost certain that wherever she is, Santana cannot hear him but still, he is embarrassed by this fault. When he swallows, it is with a handful of tears that chokes backwards and into his sinuses, creating the tears that he had never intended shedding in front of her.

"I'm sorry that I didn't keep my promise."

The grip that Noah has against Santana's hand tightens in the understanding that the least that he can give to her in return for all that she has given to him is the promise that as long as her heart is still beating, it will at least never have to beat alone again. But he can feel his body growing weaker as the tears grow stronger until eventually, he is consumed by them. The sound of himself crying hurts his head. The sound of the machinery stabs at his ear drums. They all sound as though they are hurting her. He wants nothing more than to stop it all, but even he knows that this will only make things worse.

"Can you... Do you think that you can please watch out for Rachel for me tonight?" He swallows and forces the request from his mouth, forcing himself to stop crying because he knows how much she would hate how sorry he can feel for her. "And I'm not trying to sound selfish or anything, but if you can watch out for me too... I think that I might need it in these next couple of days, San..."

He sniffles into his sleeve, waiting for a sign to indicate that she had heard him. The noise is disgusting. Noah knows that Santana would have cringed in her response had she been capable, slapped him playfully across the arm before scolding him about manners... The fact that she doesn't say a word makes all of this seem even more real.

"Please, Santana..." He begs her to hear him but as his heart begins to speed up inside of his chest, her pulse remains rhythmic beneath his fingers. He forces the volume of his voice to raise. Wherever Santana is right now, he needs to be certain that she can hear him.

"Noah..."

He can feel the weight of his mother's glance before he actually hears her. His heart sinks in a flash. He blinks and the vital organ is suddenly thumping somewhere down near his knees.

_Not yet_... He pleads silently with himself. _Please, not yet._

But despite his best efforts to stave off the inevitable, it comes anyway. Just like he always knew it one day would.

"It's time."

They used to always joke with one another, promise each other that they were so in love that they would follow each other all the way to the edge and back, if that is what it came down to. It was a true promise but of course, at the time, Noah had no idea that it would ever end here.

"I love you, San..." He murmurs quickly, trying to compress all of the things that he never had the time to say in her shortened time here on this Earth into a few brief sentences. "I love you so much. Thank you... Thank you for everything that you've ever done for me. For everything that you're doing... I'll never forget you, I promise."

He brings her limp hand up towards his lips, kissing the closed fist gently before releasing her forever. When they part, it is with a rush of wind that lingers between their bodies and leaves him chilled. When he finally does walk away, Noah is determined not to look back, not even once.

It is not the first time that Noah has been taught the lesson that if you love somebody, if you _truly_ love them, you will be willing to give them away when the time is here.

And she might be the first to go, but Noah knows that with time, the rest will only follow. One by one.

* * *

><p><em>She has the hands of a piano player.<em>

_This is what her mother always used to tell her anyway..._

_ "Shelby dear, you should forget about something silly like singing and take up the piano instead." This is what Crystal Berry would always tell her every time Shelby would approach her about the singing lessons that she has always wanted. She could be just like Kathryn Waters, the girl in her second grade class that took singing classes and had already been in three television commercials. She wasn't afraid to let everybody know it either. "You have these beautiful, long fingers, just like a pianist and it could take you so much further."_

_ In all fairness, Shelby is excellent with a piano, that wooden encasing of hammers and strings had taken her far throughout her childhood, but in the end it had always come back to her passion for singing, for performing, for becoming a star... _

_But today, for the first time in Shelby's life, she is more grateful for her long, dexterous fingers than she will ever be for her magnificent voice._

_Today, her daughter had woken up with hair on top of her head. They were tiny, soft wisps, nothing beyond a thin layer of peach fuzz and barely noticeable unless you were truly looking, but every time she ran her fingers across the top of a a scalp that had been bare for ages now, Shelby felt as though she were instead running them through grains of hot sand on a beach in the middle of the Caribbean during a perfect summer day..._

_ Today, her daughter had woken up with hair on top of her head and seeing as how it has been nearly a year since Shelby could boast this, she does not take it for granted._

_The three Corcoran's sit inside of the hospital for the first time since Rachel had been formally released, a day following the night that Shelby had last brought her into the emergency room._

_ The shingles virus has long since cleared from her system, leaving behind nothing more than handful of barely noticeable scarring that all of her doctors have informed her will fade with time. _

_ Finally, today is not a bad visit to the doctor's, but instead a good. _

_Just another thing that Shelby has to be grateful for._

_Her, Rachel and Noah sit at the center table inside of the play room that has been designed for five year old's. Shelby's ass barely fits inside of the plastic chair and her knees are hugged close into her chest as she pulls herself in as close to the table as she can, but both Rachel and Noah seem comfortable and for now, this is all Shelby can truly care about. _

_ Shelby can tell just by looking at her daughter that Rachel is exhausted, but her four year old is fueled by a new found excitement. She scribbles furiously with crayons against a piece of bright pink construction paper and makes her mother sit by her side and play with her brand new haircut. _

_It's been five hours._

_They wait for results like they have not been forced to do in so long. Physical examinations, blood draws, lumbar punctures, a painful bone marrow aspiration, this time all routine, all marks of a newly reached milestone; the one hundred day anniversary of Rachel's stem cell transplant. _

_ It is the marker that doctor's love to use. As the saying goes, if a patient has survived the first hundred days post-transplant, the chances that they will survive the next hundred days, and the next hundred days after that and even after that are even higher. _

_ Now all they have to do is wait and see if Rachel truly has survived, because Shelby is not foolish enough to believe that Rachel's physical presence is enough of a marker to really be positive._

"_Look, momma!" _

_Rachel turns from being primped by her mother in order to flash her the completed drawing. The paper is covered in scribbles, typical of a four year old. Shelby has absolutely no idea what it is that she is looking at, but it melts her heart to see anyway._

_ "That is beautiful, honey." Shelby praises her daughter's creative side because this is her job as Rachel's mother. "We'll hang it up on the fridge when we get home, okay?"_

_ "It's me..." Rachel continues into an explanation, her tiny finger jutting out to an image that only after Shelby really squints, she can distinguish as a stick figure. "And that's my microphone because I'm singing." _

_ "And what are you singing, baby girl?" Shelby's smile broadens. It's been a long time since Rachel had spoken so fondly about her passion for singing and to be honest, Shelby had missed it. She had grown terrified that her ambitious young daughter had taken to abandoning her dreams of stardom and fame for fear that they were dreams that she would never get an opportunity to sing. _

_ "I'm singing like you, momma," Rachel tells her with a tone as though to say that this much should have been obvious, exasperated by the idea that she even has to explain this to Shelby... Her daughter, the diva. "I'm on Broadway."_

_ Broadway... That might as well have been Rachel's first word. While most kids her age were still busy shoving Cheetos up their noses and eating Lego blocks, Rachel instead, has been dreaming of Broadway since the day that she was born._

_ "And there's you and there's Noah. You guys are watching me so that you can tell me that I'm the best singer in the world when I'm done."_

_ "Well you are the best singer in the world..." Shelby reasons with her daughter with a shrug of her shoulders. _

_ "I know." Rachel responds with a blatant lack of modesty that has Shelby laughing before the young girl turns back towards her pictures, adding all of the little details that she had missed the first time around... A squigly line besides her that Shelby wonders may be her co-star in her big production. A smeared bay of crayon that represents the Broadway stage, her orchestra shown in curly scribbles in front of her..._

_ "Look at my picture, momma..." _

_ Noah vies for Shelby's attention next, the mother's head snapping attentively to face him as her fingers begin to dance across the top of Rachel's head once more... She is addicted and now she is certain that she will never stop._

_ "Noah, that is lovely." Her seven year old has some more definition behind his art that has come with age. At the very least, Shelby can somewhat identify a human form at the center of the paper. "Are you playing football?"_

_ "Yup," _

_ Shelby sighs with relief, grateful that her very best of guesses had been correct. Noah depicts himself with a football inside of his hands. He is running, surrounded by hundreds of faces and different colored jerseys making the attempt to tackle him. In his head, Noah beats them all. _

_ "Where are your teammates?"_

_ "I don't need any." All confidence. Her children have a head on their shoulders that could carry them into the oval office of the White House one day. But it seems as though fame is all either of them have on their mind. _

_ "Hey momma, will you be mad at me and Noah when we are more famous than you?" Rachel's question is serious. She is an infinitely curious little girl. They say that on average, a four year old asks four hundred and thirty seven questions a day. Shelby is willing that her four year old – much beyond average – asks at least a thousand. _

_ "No, I will not be mad at you guys." Shelby tries not to laugh because this is a serious fear of Rachel's. She may be a little diva, but she also has a caring spirit that could melt anybody's heart. Shelby has never been prouder. "I will be very, very happy for you two as long as you make sure never to forget about your mommy when you're rich and famous."_

_ "We won't." They echo in a simultaneous chorus, but Shelby silently tells herself that when that day comes, and their promise is not kept, she won't hold it against them._

"_Well, you're gonna need a bodyguard, Rae... For when you're famous, I mean." Noah pipes in his expert opinion. Her son changes interests more than he changes clothes, his latest fad – superheroes._

_ Shelby has yet to find a way to get him to change out of the Spiderman costume he'd worn last Halloween, and Noah was growing like a weed, the outfit was much too small for him. These days, he has been spending the majority of his time "saving the world" - as he liked to refer to it as – but really, he would set himself out to find Rachel's lost toys that he'd usually hide himself for the sake of adventure or else be slaying evil doers like Shelby's vacuum cleaner or her blender or her washing machine... _

_Volunteering himself to be Rachel's personal protector however, is probably his biggest task to date._

"_I can come with you everywhere you go." Noah offers the promise._

_ "Well, it might be very, very scary... Because everybody in the entire world will want to follow me so that they can put my picture in the magazines and make me sign my name on little pieces of paper. " Rachel informs her brother matter-of-factly. Neither notice Shelby cock her eyebrows in her wonderment towards how it was her imaginative four year old had come up with these sentiments..._

_ "That's okay because I'm very, very brave." Noah's thin chest puffs outwards confidently, the outline of his stick-thin ribs jabbing against his still developing body, prominent even through the Spiderman logo emblazoned across his chest so that the more Shelby stares underneath the light, the more she becomes convinced that these are the beginning signs of muscles of an indescribable strength... If there was one person in this world other than herself that she trusted to look unwaveringly over her daughter, it was her son. _

_ Rachel smiles sincerely in her response, but this is all that she can offer him before turning her head away once more, pre-occupied on finishing her drawing. Silently, she tells him everything that he needs to know, that she already knows just how brave he can be..._

_How many other children would have stayed here with her for this long?_

_She is watching her children so intently, and with such intrigue that the corners of Shelby's eyes barely catch Dr. McCarthy as he begins to wave her out into the hallway from the doorway, the quiet jerk of his head indication for the mother to meet with him outside and more importantly, alone._

_ "Hey you two, I will be right back, okay?" Shelby pushes herself to her feet, off of the too-small chair. Her knees creak from being bent into her chest for so long, but Shelby ignores it easily. "Noah, watch your sister while I'm gone. I'll be right outside in the hallway if you need anything." _

_ "I will!" He is excited by his task, eager to take his first official role as superhero designated to him by somebody other than himself under his wing._

_Shelby walks on the balls of her feet. Her footsteps are silent and slow, a direct product of her growing nerves. _

_ Every couple of steps, Shelby finds her head swiveling on its own accord back over her shoulder and towards her children. Noah stands directly behind Rachel, hovering over her in the parade rest position. His spine is stiff. He keeps a perfect watch over his little sister, never once breaking the roll that had been assigned to him. _

_ Shelby knows that her son is only seven, yet still somehow, this comforts her._

"_Has everything come back?"_

_Shelby whispers her question directed towards the doctor as she closes the door to the playroom carefully behind her. Her arms snap nervously by her side, fingers drumming a steady cadence against her thighs. She can already feel the tiny, pin-prick bruises formulating beneath her skin from continued assault, but she keeps right on doing it anyway. _

_ "Everything came back." The man nods his head but his face makes no indication of the results. Shelby's eyebrows raise slowly, curious, her mouth opening slightly as her head juts forward against the axis of her neck as if to egg him on in informing her of the information that she is actually interested in. _

_ "And..."_

_ "And Rachel is all clear. All of the results came back with no indication of any cancer cells present in her system, or that her body is reacting negatively to the transplant." He delivers the blow through a single swift nod. Shelby cringes, expecting the worse so that when the results are the exact opposite of her expectations, she is not entirely certain how to respond._

_ "I... I..." Shelby stutters blindly, temporarily taken aback in her uncertainty. She is not used to good news. She is not used to this feeling of relief accompanying a visit to Rachel's doctors nor the means by which it overwhelms her, wraps itself around her body, forcing her to react entirely devoid of any sense of herself._

_ Her muscles control themselves. Shelby throws her body forward, her arms wrapping around the back of the doctor's neck in a tight embrace. She squeezes until he is practically turning blue._

_ "Shelby..." His voice is high-pitched and forced through the restraint that Shelby is currently placing unintentionally against his windpipe. "Are you alright?"_

_ "Of course!" She beams, trying to react naturally as she pulls herself away from the man that – despite everything that he had ever done for their family – she had never shown this kind of physical affection towards. She straightens her clothing, flicks her tangled hair back behind her head and stands up completely straight, forcing her breathing to return to normal. "Of course I'm alright, but Rachel... she's alright... I mean, really alright? Really, really?"_

_ "It looks like we've got a fighter on our hands, Shelby." He smiles. It shines so brightly that it stings Shelby's eyes and forces her to look away._

"_And here I was thinking that she was nothing more than skin and bones this whole time."_

* * *

><p>It's a dark night in Lima, Ohio.<p>

Tonight, the clouds are so thick that the moon does not have the slightest gleam of silver to show for its magnificence.

Noah sits within a chair in a distant corner of the waiting room that seem miles from civilization. He has separated himself from the group and he knows that it is not right, nor is it particularly fair, but he's suddenly having a difficult time making well-informed decisions.

The waiting room is decorated by time.

Walking inside, the first thing that they had been greeted with was a series of old, black and white framed photographs of the hospital when it was still nothing more than a single building with cows grazing along the front line and babies being born into hay baskets and the logic that blood letting and exorcisms would provide enough medical intervention to save a life...

Things grow more civilized the further the room progresses inward, but Noah finds himself stuck at the very beginning.

Lima Memorial Hospital is one hundred and thirteen years old. One hundred and thirteen years later, ever single person inside one of those pictures besides the door is gone. The thought alone is enough to make him feel impossibly small. There are so many more people that are dead than there will ever be inside of this world right now.

Shelby sits determinedly by herself in the corner opposite from Noah. The two Corcoran's are relentlessly fidgety. They have a genetic tendency not to have much patience for anything that they have to wait for, especially something like this.

She falls into habit quickly, killing herself slowly by pouring her mind through the search engine on her phone, looking up countless articles on kidney transplantation – the things that can go right, but even more profoundly, the things that can go terribly, terribly wrong.

She announces to her despondent audience that under normal circumstances, kidney transplantation is considered to be a relatively safe surgery, but of course these particular stipulations are far from normal.

Despite her very best of efforts, Shelby has yet to find specific information mentioning what to expect when your daughter's battle against leukemia is strangled by kidney dysfunction attempting to be corrected only in the very final moment in the window of opportunity. Instead, she wraps all of the details that she can find tightly around her own throat.

There are the risks associated with general anesthesia. Stroke, heart attack, that one in five hundred chance that she will simply not wake up for no discernible reason...

Then there is the actual, physical surgery to consider.

Even if Rachel _was_ in otherwise good health, her chances of dying on the operating table is one in a thousand. The problem is that Rachel _isn't_ in otherwise good health and although Shelby has yet to come up with an accurate statistic estimating her chances, Noah is willing to bet that they could only wish them to be one in a thousand.

They will not be automatically in the clear should Rachel come out of surgery either. The most immediate concern will be rejection. Even if things do appear okay at first glance, Rachel will have to take medication every day for the rest of her life simply to ensure a permanence in that _Santana's_ kidney will become _Rachel's_ kidney. The leading cause of death for transplant recipients is cardiovascular disease – high blood pressure, coronary artery disease, hypertrophy. The second is infection – a particularly high risk in Rachel's case. After that it is the chances of her having higher risk pregnancies later in life, the need for Rachel to avoid high-risk activities in which there is a chance that her lone, remaining kidney might be damaged...

He doesn't even want to consider the fact that after this is all said and done, Rachel will still be facing an unfinished battle against cancer.

It is a conclusion that – try as Shelby might otherwise – will only be told with time. The list goes on and on, but Noah had stopped listening to his mother a long time ago now.

It's been five hours.

Noah's eyes begin to wander. He finds that he is prone to becoming very antsy very quickly when it comes to waiting.

There are the people that Noah expects to see. His mother, of course, his aunt, his grandparents... Then there is Finn, who he is surprisingly glad to see, even if he does know his friend may be only trying to fulfill his quota of visiting hours after months of prominent absence. Eventually, Quinn had made her presence known, only after the chaos in the emergency room had subsided and dragging poor Brittney along with her alongside the understanding that maybe that unbearable pain that the grieving blonde is currently feeling deep inside of the center of her chest may be soothed by physically _seeing_ everything that Santana was giving.

Quinn sits blearily across from Noah. The only indication that the blonde has given that she has not fallen completely catatonic since her arrival is her eyes, which dance periodically across the room before finally latching upon Noah's.

Her expression is empty. It's different than anything that he has ever seen, and Noah knows that it is because now, Quinn _knows_ as well... Suddenly, Quinn can finally understand why it is that they are all different from the rest – him and Rachel and Shelby – because now, they share a common wound and it connects them all.

If a year ago, somebody would have told Noah that he would be bonding with Quinn Fabray alongside the mutual understanding that sometimes even the best machines can't win the fight, he would have called them insane. Collectively, they sit together and try to gather the support that they will need from one another in order to get themselves through this long and dwindling night, left only praying that it will be enough to give themselves the energy that they will need to be able to reach out and touch the sky once more.

Noah chews quietly on his fingernails. He wants to run away. He wants to lock himself inside of his small corner to grieve and to never come out again but he has already made the promise to Rachel that she will wake up to find him at her bedside and he is not about to go back on that promise. Not now.

His fingers drum nervously against each other before even that motion becomes much too exhausting for his tired body to complete. His hands come together in prayer formation, the tips of his fingers coming to rest against the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes and begs whoever it is that may hear him for Rachel to be okay because if she isn't, he knows that none of them will be able to survive the aftermath.

When he opens his eyes, the first person that Noah sees is Santana.

She sits directly adjacent to him, her elbows against her knees. She is leaning so close into his body that he would be able to reach out and touch her if he so desired. He has half the mind to listen to his subconscious and do so but pulls back against the reflex before he can commit to the motion.

She is not there. It is impossible.

Noah is already seeing her in places that he knows it is impossible for her to be. She is so real that Noah is beginning to wonder whether or not it is possible for something as simple as lack of sleep to cause hallucinations this vivid.

He has half the mind to march over to Santana and tell her to go haunt somebody else before she disappears all over again in a rush of color that Noah sees in the place of a knock against the open door.

Their legs are all so weak from such a prolonged period without use that when ever single person in the room stands simultaneously in response to the small team of doctors standing at the door, they come to an immediate wobble that makes the room appear transparent. Noah almost laughs.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he buries his face deep down inside of the fleshy part of his palms until there is no light left to enter inside of his eyes. His ears block out all sources of sound as he attempts to prepare for the worst by imagining what it might be like to be dead, but only in terms of himself.

_I'm dead_. He tells himself. _Really, really I am dead._

The problem is, the longer Noah tries, the harder this seems to be.

His mother doesn't look at any of them. Noah is certain that she is trying her hardest not to cry. Instead, Shelby occupies the action by wrapping her arm around inside of Noah's elbow. She forms an impenetrable chain between mother and son that leaves him stable on his own two feet once more. Each pulls the other forward in the understanding that one simply cannot do this without the other.

Shelby holds her breath. The mother already understands full well that as long as she does this for a long enough period of time, the white lights will dance in front of her eyes to the point that they are almost relaxing.

Noah squeezes her arm pulling her even tighter into him until they are quite literally joined at the hip.

"Breathe, mom."

The doctors are told apart easily from the rest of the group by their stereotypical blue scrubs, draped beneath a white lab coat that somehow makes them all look scarier than anything that they actually are... Aren't doctors supposed to make you feel _better_?

Their faces are neutral, arms crossed high against their chests so that no matter how hard Noah is trying, he cannot seem to read a single expression.

He can literally feel each individual heartbeat of every single person in this room.

It forms a rhythm that is tribal, almost primitive sounding. It's a steady drum cadence that in a way comforts Noah despite the sheer panic that the tone conveys.

All eyes are wide. They stare straight ahead, focused upon the group of doctors and briefly, Noah wonders whether they get a kick out of this – being the center of attention – he wonders whether or not this makes them feel like rock stars, like A list celebrities...

The longer that Noah stares, the more he realizes that he doesn't even known half of the people that stand before them... There is Dr. McCarthy of course, then Rachel's nephrologist who Noah never _did _actually get the name of. Everybody else present is just a mystery.

Noah is just getting a kick out of his wonderment as to whether or not all of these extras floating around are simply here to leech off of the high of fame when his mother's arms wrap so tightly around his center that it nearly knocks him off of his feet in his surprise.

He had been so absorbed inside of his own thoughts and judgments that he had missed everything that they'd had to stay.

Wet tears lace across his skin where his mother's face is buried deep inside of the nape of his neck. They are surprisingly cold and leave him shivering as they drip down his prominent jugular vein before seeping deep inside of his sweatshirt.

His heart freezes in a panic. For a moment, he automatically assumes the worst. Shelby is crying. She is crying and the only thing that is propping her up right now is him. His knees are just about ready to collapse out from underneath him when he hears a strange sound coming from beyond his mother's mouth.

Shelby is _laughing_.

She is laughing as though she had just heard the funniest thing that she has ever heard in her entire life, and it resonates like a song that swims with relief and sounds like a symphony being conducted inside of his very own two ears.

"Oh, thank God..." He can vaguely hear her muttering into his neck over and over again. "Thank God, thank God..."

His brain is so delightfully disoriented that he goes limp inside of his mother's arms. They prop each other up miraculously, despite the fact that Noah must be at least twice the size of her.

There is commotion in his background, Noah knows this but other than that, he is left blank. He can feel the muscles of his face contorting into a smile that is so wide that it is almost painful and suddenly, he is joining with his mother inside of a fit of laughter that is so intense that it hunches him forwards until his abs begin to burn underneath the strain.

"Thank you..."

His senses are heightened yet still, somehow, all surrounding noise manages to escape from the room as he bends forwards at his waist until his nose is pressed into his knees, closes his eyes and takes a silent moment to himself in order to thank the one person that he believes has made this moment possible – his guardian angle, his patron saint – the grief of her loss aided by the gain of her sacrifice.

But he doesn't linger. Instead, he stands swiftly back to his feet. Suddenly, his body seems a thousand times sharper than it had been mere moments ago. Suddenly, he possesses the hearing of a bat, the eyes of a hawk, the sense of smell like a well-trained hunting dog.

In this universe it is only him and it is only Shelby and it is only Rachel, tied together amidst a common bond of fate allowing them to link their lives together for just a little bit longer. Tonight, Rachel has surpassed all of the odds. She has allowed them all to finally believe that even when the bombs do come raining down all around them, there remains a chance that they _can_ actually find a way to make it out alive.

Even if they do lose a few along the way.

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><p><strong>Princess-N-xoxo<strong>** – Yup, good news and bad news all at the same time. Things can never be easy for these guys. There is going to be a lot of conflicting emotions, especially as time comes to pass and when Rachel eventually does figure out the truth behind her transplant. Shelby and Noah are gonna try to hide it as long as they can, but they can't hide something like that forever.**

**Just Me**** – There will be a lot of conflicting emotions that's for sure. Once ****the initial shock begins to wear down and the effect of Rachel surviving her transplant is replaced more with grief for losing Santana, Noah is going to be doing a lot of beating himself up and Rachel is going to come down with a case of survivor's guilt. Despite all of the relief, losing Santana definitely isn't just gonna go away. Thank you so, so much for your lovely words!**

**TheCdKnight**** – I decided a little while ago that it was gonna be Santana all along. In the initial drafts I was writing, I had Rachel dying in the end but in the long run it all seemed too straight forward and almost too easy for me so I couldn't get it out in the way that I wanted it to. But Rachel may have made it past this hurdle, but she still has a long way to go. It will be very easy for them to get caught up in this temporary relief to forget that there's still a huge mountain in front of them left to face. That combined with the guilt that they will feel over Santana is going to leave them in a bit of a mush. Thank you so much for your review! (Both of them haha).**

**Gleefanficfan**** – I had a brilliant holiday! It was such a nice change of pace from New York. Hope yours was good as well! Slainte mhath!**

**Seher143**** – I actually started this story with the intention of Rachel dying at the end, that was exactly how I started writing it too. Then because I tend to get excited and started writing the end while I was still working on the middle, it got harder and harder for me to write Rachel's death, literally every time I wrote something it just came out crappy and corny and I hated it so I decided to put this little spin on it, tweaked it a million times and then finally settled on this after a little bit of a run around. Thanks for sticking with me, it's much appreciated! I hope your holidays were lovely as well!**

**Othlvr16**** – I know, it was difficult to write but the day I started writing this story I knew that I didn't want to end it in a perfectly round circle of happy endings, as twisted as that may sound. I just didn't think that it would be realistic, plus I'm a sucker for angst.**

**Clara Meliza**** – Haha thank you, I'm honored! As sick and twisted and this may sound, for me it just felt very right. I didn't want to have a miraculously happy ending, but every time I thought about writing Rachel dying, I couldn't get it out right so this is how I settled. Rachel won't find out that the kidney came from Santana until a little while after the surgery because Shelby and Noah are afraid that it will effect the progress of her recovery. ****The epilogue is going to be told through a series of progressing flashbacks so you'll see Noah coping as compared to Rachel dealing with survivor's guilt and a bit of anger that it took so long for the truth to be revealed to her. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Seacat03**** – I've been leaving Santana out purposefully these last couple of chapters. A few people were asking about where she'd disappeared to, but now you know why! Thanks for the review!**

**Baygirl123**** – She was a close second while I was trying to piece together my ending, but then I started to think about the potential for a sequel and I wanted Quinn to have a larger role in that so I decided for it to be Santana in the end. Thank you for the review!**

**Lila**** – I see what you're saying. I tend to rant, I know that and it's not the first time I've been told that. Trial and error I guess, right?**


	50. Epilogue Part I

**So, let me start off by saying how much of an idiot I am. Basically, long story short I learned the hard way that having my 16 month old niece on my lap and a full cup of tea directly next to my laptop is a terrible combination… I was literally just about finished with this chapter when my computer got fried so after raging for a couple of days, I had to start this guy over from scratch.**

**Basically, I decided to split the Epilogue into two parts because I felt badly about having ot make everybody wait for so long and also, this was typed out on my Kindle (which I didn't even know you could do until recently haha) so I apologize if there is an excess of spelling/grammatically errors. I'll edit it and repost when I get my computer back from being fixed. **

**Also, the next chapter is the last! Crazy how fast it came up, and I'm trying to squeeze in a little something for everybody, but this is your last chance, so if you're really itching to see something particular let me know and I'll try and squeeze it in. **

**Thank you so much for your patience! Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Epilogue – <strong>_June 2013  
><em>(Part I)

* * *

><p>There is a bizarre sense of being that a person is granted in a direct response towards being given a second chance at life.<p>

It is waking up to see the sun shining just a little bit brighter. It is appreciating every last breath of air, every single interaction with every single person that you love – even the most miniscule…

Every single day for the last six months, Rachel Corcoran has learned not to allow so much as a single second to slip out from beyond her fingertips. She is determined to feel nothing but relief, and on the days that she struggles to keep up with her newly found role of hopeless optimist, she just reminds herself that she should have been buried inside of a hole in the ground five months ago and the endeavor latches onto her with ease.

If things had gone any differently, she would have been a skeleton by now.

Today, Rachel is grateful to be home.

Her body has been dragged through the gutter. She has been beaten, battered, bruised and destroyed with the hopes of reemerging anew. Ultimately, they had hit the virtual reset button somewhere inside of her, and after a lengthy decline followed immediately by a steady period of stagnance, she was finally starting to get better again.

Rachel had spent more of the days following her transplant inside of the hospital than she has out, but she can only assume that could be expected for somebody in her condition…

Chemotherapy had drained her, and still continues to do so. Three days awake, she is still forced to go, although for the most part, she receives her treatment on an outpatient basis unless of course, something goes terribly wrong which Rachel has all but come to expect… On the days that she is not in chemotherapy, she is receiving radiation; high doses of poisonous rays, determined to destroy what little of her body had actually managed to retain a sense of normalcy throughout this process.

But today, she stands amidst a mere array of medications sprawled strategically about her vanity.

Her bony hip bone grazes delicately against its wooden corner, arms fixed firmly at her side, body poised stiff and straight like a soldier standing rigidly at attention as she stares straight ahead, her wide, sunken eyes determinedly fixated upon the full-length mirror dangling from the closet door before her, taking in and evaluating each and every miniscule detail, overanalyzing her own appearance to the point of physical exhaustion.

Standing in nothing more than a bra and an old, ratty pair of over-sized sweatpants, Rachel finally gets to see, for the first time the full extent to which her own body has betrayed her.

Her cheekbones protrude prominently against her thin face, highlighted by the grey hue that her skin has since taken. The bags around her eyes can be seen from a mile away, exemplified only by the prominent absence of eyebrows. In fact, the only thing that Rachel _does_ have going for her, it seems is the small sprouting of light brown hair that had begun springing up in intermittent intervals across her scalp a couple of weeks after the intensity of her chemotherapy treatments began to dwindle…

Reaching upwards, Rachel places her palm flat against the top of her head, rubbing it quickly – back and forth and back and forth – as she has been so prone to doing lately… It feels like a shag rug has taken residence on top of her head. The thin and scarce hairs follow the movement of her hand above it, stretching as tall as they possibly can with static, trying desperately to pretend as though they have more to show for her than what they actually do.

Dropping her hand, Rachel senses only disappointment. Her shoulders slump, the bones of her ribcage follow. She can literally see each one droop, contracting forward so that the catheter still protruding directly from the center of her chest appears to be three dimensional against the flat surface of the mirror.

Her body is starting to retreat inwards on itself once more. Rachel uses her right index finger to poke at her concave stomach. Her hip bones make crevices that look like craters against her skin… A week ago, had she have done the same thing, her finger would have been lost inside of her body, which had blown up like an overinflated balloon. For weeks, Rachel had refused to leave the house, claiming – to her utter embarrassment – that she resembled an undercooked soufflé rising inside of an oven.

That was the steroids.

Out of all of the medications that Rachel has ever been forced to take throughout the entirety of her life, the steroids had been the ones that she had despised the most.

They were necessary, the doctor's would explain to her, to counter the inflammation left in the wake of an infection that she had developed immediately followed her kidney transplant, an infection that had nearly killed her… They were necessary to prevent the organ that she still struggled to call her own from being rejected by her body, which has already betrayed her so much that it was difficult to believe that it wouldn't do so again. They were necessary to help her body heal after spending the last several months being ravaged by cytotoxic chemicals and high-intensity gamma rays.

But still, they made her swell up like a balloon, and Rachel may be a _sick_ teenage girl, but she was still a teenage girl none-the-less… For a long time, she was too embarrassed to let anybody save for her mother and a select team of doctors see her. Worst of all, they left her temperamental, her mood able to shift at the snap of a finger. She could be fine one moment and angry and bitter the next, shouting at anybody that got too close to her…

Since she has stopped taking them, Rachel does not miss the bipolar tendencies and she sure as hell does not miss roughly resembling the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

But the one benefit that she had managed to find through the course of her steroid treatment was that her stomach had bloated to the point that the large scar, curving like the letter _L_ across the track of her hip and directly underneath her belly button had suddenly become barely visible…

That angry, light pink line, she would carry for the rest of her life. It is a physical reminder of the fact that she remains amidst their ranks while still, one remains permanently missing…

Santana is still gone.

With each passing day and each tide of overwhelming change amidst their rarely consistent lives, this at least is guaranteed to stay the same. Santana is gone, but she was never supposed to be and Rachel cannot help but to think that had fate not served them such a cruel hand, had Rachel never gotten sick in the first place, maybe she wouldn't be.

Guilt follows Rachel everywhere that she goes.

It is a feeling that she cannot seem to escape. Santana didn't deserve what had happened to her. No, Santana deserved to graduate high school with all of her family and her closest of family watching on proudly. Santana deserved be the first person in her family to actually get out of Lima, striving to become the absolute best of herself, out from beneath the lock and key of her notoriously strict parents…

Rachel on the other hand, well she had been dying since the day that she was born. Rachel was experienced, Rachel was prepared, some might argue that she was _ready_… And while Santana was just getting ready to truly live, Rachel was just getting ready to die until a complete turn around and all knocked them flat on their asses.

And Rachel hates surprises.

"Noah, will you please just cooperate with me already!"

Her mother's voice rings out from beyond the hallway and straight into her ears… Shelby's actions have been accompanied with an extra tone of cheeriness and appreciation ever since Rachel's transplant. She can't even scold Noah without sounding exceptionally happy about it.

It makes Rachel cringe.

"Come on mom, this thing is strangling me!" Noah is putting up a fight because he knows that Shelby is frazzled and frantic in her rush to get out of the house. Their family – already notorious for tardiness – is just about ready to claim their latest victim; Noah's high school graduation.

"It's a tie, Noah it's supposed to go around your neck. Maybe if you sat still for a minute and let me do this, I wouldn't be strangling you…" Tying a tie was an art that Shelby had never truly mastered, but in this house, she played the role of _both_ father and mother and ever since Noah began to outgrow the novelty of clip-on's this was just a skill that she had just been forced into.

"Whatever, I'm just gonna go naked under that robe."

"Noah Eifah Corcoran!" Rachel can't help but to force a small smile as her eyes fade down away from reflection and onto her bare feet beneath her… Just when she thinks that the guilt can't fester any deeper than it already is inside of her stomach, Rachel lingers just too long against a moment that she is so grateful for – the opportunity to hear her family laughing and joking amongst each other – and it explodes even further. "You will wear what is suggested on the sheet they gave you and you will like it! Now hurry up, you have fifteen minutes until we're out the door and we're leaving with or without you."

"What would be the point of that?"

"Go!" There is a hurried scuffle. Noah's cheek is met with a harsh command that has him shuffling once more. Rachel tries to adhere to the instruction, but she can't seem to will her feet to move as her hands raise upwards once more, a single finger reaching to trace the fully-healed scar against her front, outlining it with the pad of her index finger, feeling the harsh tissue directly beneath her touch as she attempts to remember the transition, the moment that she went from dying, to being alive once again.

The lines are blurred. Since the moment she had woken up from surgery, her body has actually started to heal itself.

Rachel didn't even know that it still knew how to do that.

Choking slightly, Rachel is forced to hold back the tears. Everything about this feels wrong. Her own body feels foreign. It is almost as though she is a stranger on her own planet and she is certain beyond any reasonable doubt that despite any optimism or good fortune or inspiration of any sorts, things will never possibly be able to go back to being normal ever again.

* * *

><p><em>When she wakes up, she recognizes immediately and beyond any form of reasonable doubt that she is inside of a hospital. But beyond that, things are fuzzy and Rachel can't, for the life of her seem to remember how it is that she got here. <em>

_For a long time, she is left distinctly terrified. Her body lay paralyzed. She can't speak, she can't move, she can't feel… _

_ She can't – it seems – do much of anything._

_ Her eyes widen instinctively, pupils constricting into pinpoints beneath the glare of the blaring fluorescents hovering above her. The light pierces directly through them, blaring a hole against the back of her skull but she can't seem to find the energy that is necessary to move her head away._

_ Rachel attempts to open her mouth, she attempts to call out in search for the answers that she needs, but instead, she merely chokes on the dryness of her own tongue, causing her chest to heave violently in protest… The oxygen gets stuck somewhere deep inside of her core where it lingers until her lungs begin to burn with desperation. Her body is left shuddering violently until she finally remembers how to breathe again with a burst of lightning that takes form in a deep, ragged cough that originates in the pit of her stomach and flies without warning upwards and out of her mouth. _

_ She is immediately reminded of all of the times she had been forced to watch her brother angrily attempt to jumpstart his ratty old Honda… With a sudden flash, at the flip of the ignition, Rachel lights the fuse that she'd needed all along to remind her body of how to perform its most basic of functions once more._

_ It is met with a burst of pain that erupts inside of her, travels through her every vein and artery, moving from her head down to the very tips of her toes…_

"_Rachel… Rachel honey, calm down. You're okay." _

_The voice sounds very far away and as though whoever it is that is speaking, is doing so in slow motion. Vaguely, she recognizes as a pair of hands presses gently down against her shoulders, pinning her frail body back against the mattress with ease, attempting to control her movements for her seeing how she has obviously forgotten how to do so herself._

_ "You need to relax, Rach," she is instructed carefully. "You're gonna hurt yourself."_

_ It seems impossible that she can be in any more pain than that which she is already feeling. Rachel hears the instruction. She comprehends it easily and somewhere in the back of mind, she recognizes the fact that it is her mother that is speaking with her, but her brain and the rest of her body do not seem to want to cooperate with one another, as though their connections have been permanently detached. _

_ Nothing that she can think to do seems to want to translate onto her traitorous body, which doesn't seem to want to cooperate with her no matter how hard she tries. _

_ "Open your eyes, Rachel…" _

_ Rachel doesn't even remember closing her eyes, but slowly, she manages to follow Shelby's instruction and like magic, the world opens up from the black surroundings that she doesn't even remember falling into in the first place. _

_ "Mom…?" _

_ Rachel doesn't even recognize her own voice. It sounds distant as the feeling slowly seeps back inside of her limbs, emulating in a warming sensation that spreads from the tips of her fingers and toes inwards towards her core._

_ "Yeah sweetie, I'm right here." Shelby's face is gentle, but even from her position stuck inside of this thick fog, Rachel can sense the exhaustion that borders across her delicate features, the familiar worry being only dully shadowed by temporary relief. "How are you feeling?"_

_ Rachel pauses to consider her mother's question briefly, her eyes scrunching with thought as she pours the entirety of her concentration into formulating an appropriate response… As her body slowly begins to become more and more aware of itself once more, her answer begins to piece itself together even slower. _

_ From within these tight sheets, Rachel feels as though she is being suffocated, like she is completely trapped without so much as a chance of escape. She fights briefly against it, but the pain is immediate and explosive. She regrets her actions instantly._

_ "Ouch…" She inadvertently procures the exact response that she had been searching for._

_ "I know…" Shelby's lips purse sympathetically as though she has been expecting this answer, but is still deeply anguished by the mere idea alone, this feeling exemplified by the fact that there is absolutely nothing that she can possibly do to ease her daughter's pain._

_ The feeling of pure agony erupts through a flash of bright light that is littered with much darker spots. When she looks up towards her mother, she is forced to squint. Shelby's face is obscured by a shadow. There is a halo of light surrounding the crown of her skull. Rachel, in the midst of all her confusion, is practically forced to jump to an immediate and profound conclusion. _

"_Am I dead?"_

_Rachel has to ask because the last thing that she can actually remember, she hadn't been dead, but she had been damn close to it… It is starting to seem impossible, the idea that she is still alive after all of that. _

_ Maybe she is at her crossroads. Maybe the angels or whatever have chosen to lead her through heaven's gates transfigured into the form a familiar comfort figure in order to make the transition a little bit easier…_

_Maybe…_

"_No Rachel, you're not dead." There is the glint of a laugh behind Shelby' voice as Rachel struggles to open her eyes wider in an attempt to gather the evidence that she needs in order to support what it is that her mother is telling her._

_ She watches as Shelby flashes a quick, bemused glance to her right. There is somebody else here with her. The closer that she looks, the easier she manages to make out her brother's darkened form, lingering determinedly against the corner. _

_ "Are you dead?" Rachel refuses to give up on this theory._

_ "Maybe we're all dead…" She knows that things are a little bit foggy to her at the moment but that was definitely not her mother's voice. Instead, she identifies Noah's alerted presence as he attempts to place an ill-conceived joke while at the same time, struggling with the full potential that this comment brings. "Maybe we're trapped inside of some weird purgatory, like a kind of 'Lost' scenario and –" _

_ "Noah…"_

_ "Sorry…" At Shelby's stern warning, Noah sinks once more; an effective reminder that this situation was already hard enough without his added attempts towards trying to mess with his sister's head._

"_You had surgery Rachel, do you remember?" Shelby turns the entirety of her attention fully back onto Rachel once more as the girl squints desperately, indicative of just how hard she is trying to jog her memory. _

_ "No…" Eventually, Rachel is forced to admit defeat with a meek sense of disappointment towards what frustratingly little control she has over her mind and body right now, terrified that the absence of her normally sharp poise will become a permanent change._

_ "It's okay… that's okay, Rachel." Shelby soothes her comfortingly, forcing Rachel to bite back against her desire to tell her mother no, it isn't. "The doctor's said that things may be a little bit fuzzy for you for a little while after you woke up. That's just the anesthesia doing its job, but don't worry, Rachel. It will go away soon."_

_ "The doctors?" Rachel's questions piece together slowly… Of course, surgery would imply doctors, but Rachel doesn't remember them… She doesn't remember any of them. _

_ "Wow, they really do have her loaded up, don't they?" Noah's comment is whispered with the directive pointed towards Shelby, but just because the world around her remains existent inside of a blur, doesn't mean that her hearing is not still perfectly acute. She hears him anyway._

_ Rachel waits. She waits for her mother to scold Noah for his abrasiveness as she so often does, but when Shelby's response is translated only into silence, Rachel can't help but to grow suspicious._

_Something strange is happening around here. Rachel does not need complete coherence to figure this much out._

"_Rachel honey, you were very sick, do you remember?" Shelby moves slowly, attempting to jog Rachel's memory along in the hopes that eventually, she can take over in the relaying of this story for her._

_ "My… my kidneys…" The pieces come together slowly. They are splotchy at best and not quite present in their entirety just yet, but suddenly, Rachel can remember being sick, she can remember being told that she has just days to live, she remembers being prepared to be sent home to die… _

_ Everything after that remains hazy. Is she still dying? Rachel can't be entirely certain, but this overwhelming pain tells her yes. _

_ "There you go…" Shelby encourages her thought process, "Your kidneys stopped working, Rachel. The doctor's said that you needed a new one and they… well they found one for you, just in time. Now you're all ready to start getting better again. You will be good as new in now time. You'll see."_

_ Rachel's eyebrows arch suspiciously. There is a pained expression written across Shelby's face. Her lips are folded into a straight line, pursed as though there is more that she would like to tell Rachel although she is not entirely certain how she could go about doing so… _

_ Her first instinct tells her that her mother is lying to her about being alright, about getting better again. It makes perfect sense inside of her head anyway… If Rachel is really getting better, than would she be in this much pain right now? Would her body be protesting this violently, rioting so harshly against her? Would her mother and her brother look so downright sad; a deep, emotional outcry that is centered right inside of the pit of their very eyes?_

_ Dimly, Rachel's future begins to flash before her very eyes. She is only vaguely aware of the idea that it should be the other way around - that it should be her past that she is seeing instead… That's how things always worked on TV anyway._

_ But there are still so many things left that she has not had the opportunity to do that it is overwhelming her. Her body must understand that this may very well be her one and only chance to watch her dreams unfold. _

_She hasn't made it onto Broadway. She hasn't held her acceptance letter into NYADA or even been to New York since those first three years of her life before her parents had moved her to Lima; three years that Rachel can't even remember, they don't count. _

_ Hell, she hasn't even graduated high school yet, or watched her award-winning glee club hoist a national championship trophy bigger than her into the choir room… She was still a virgin for Christ's sake. She's never driven a car before…_

"_I have to go." _

_Her announcement is abrupt and met with an immediate surprise. She thrashes violently against her bed in an effort to escape the tangled web of blankets draped across her, keeping her inside… _

_ There is so much left still for her to do and such little time now to actually do it._

_ "No, Rachel. You have to stay right here." Shelby extinguishes Rachel's bid for escape easily before it can even truly begin. Rachel struggles to distinguish whether it is her mother that is moving particularly fast, or her that is moving particularly slow, because in the blink of an eye, Shelby's arm is draped tight across her front, pinning her easily back down against the mattress and eliminating any hope Rachel had ever had of ever slipping away. _

_ Her touch is gentle, yet it still feels as though there is a cinderblock resting against Rachel's chest. She is being crushed by imprisonment, trapped and without a single chance in hell of getting anywhere anytime soon._

_ "But I have to…" Rachel whines, hoping that her mere voice alone will be enough to allow Shelby to sympathize with her, to convince her to allow Rachel to go her own way, dart across the country and achieve all of her wildest dreams. _

_If everything goes as planned, Rachel is certain that she will be back before sun rise._

"_No." Shelby's tone is flat and final. Rachel's body relaxes miserably beneath the restraint now that it is obvious that it will not be lifted. "Rachel, you still need to give your body a chance to recover. You're starting to get better now, but it is still going to take some time for you to be yourself again and the doctor's need to keep you right here the entire time so that they can watch you and make sure that everything is going the way that it should be." _

_ Rachel gawks upwards towards her mother who appears to be missing the entire point that she is trying to convey here._

_ Doesn't Shelby understand that time is the exact thing that she is currently fighting against?_

_Apparently not. _

"_But I have to go to New York! I have to make it onto Broadway. I have to become famous and marry my male lead and start a family with him and I have to do it all tonight." _

_ Rachel pleads her case, placing an emphasis on the time restraints that she is so certain Shelby can't possibly understand. _

_ "There will be time for that, Rae…" Shelby inadvertently confirms what in Rachel's mind, translates into a foolish naivety, cultivating inside of a distinct lack of realistic expectations towards the outcome of things here inside of this hospital._

_ "We're going to have three kids…" Rachel all but ignores her mother's comment, hoping to get through to her via the art of detail._

_ "Oh really?" Shelby's eyebrows arch briefly, thoroughly amazed by the detailed thought processes currently firing without preamble inside of her daughter's muddled mind. It is the drugs – Shelby can't help but to think. Her mouth contorts upwards into a curious grin. She eggs Rachel on easily. "And you have to do all of this by tonight?"_

_ "Yes!" Rachel emphasizes. She is finally starting to get through to Shelby all though to her, this is a fact that has been obvious all along. "There will be Barbra first, than Bernadette, and Patty will be the youngest."_

_ "They will be just like their mother… God help them." The way that Shelby laughs, Rachel can tell that she is not taking this situation nearly as seriously as Rachel is. Shelby cannot seem to understand the magnitude of what it is that Rachel is trying to convey, and for somebody as normally articulate as Rachel Corcoran, this inability to get through to so much as the woman that knows her the best in this world is relentlessly frustrating. _

_ "No they won't." Rachel shakes her head adamantly, determined in her profession, desperate to convey the stern message to Shelby despite the overwhelming display of dizziness that the action ultimately produces._

_ "Oh, no?" Shelby asks, keeping the conversation flowing simply to humor Rachel… It is profoundly difficult for Shelby to believe so much as a single word that her daughter is saying, but for the time being she sees no harm in keeping that from Rachel._

"_No." The younger girl reiterates. "I don't want them to be sick." _

_The gentle ministration that Shelby has since begun committing to, playing a simultaneous effort of keeping herself busy and Rachel comfortable halt abruptly as she stiffens, muscles tensing almost painfully. The world surrounding the three Corcoran's pauses as Noah and Shelby stare at each other, each silently wondering whether or not Rachel has any idea of what it was that she had just said…_

_ Before this, Shelby would have to be honest in admitting that she had only been partially listening to her daughter's drug-induced ramblings, keeping a single ear open the entire time out of sheer amusement… but this… The honesty inside of her words, the revelation of a deeper idea that Rachel has clearly been holding onto for a long time now - an idea that Shelby knows, Rachel would never admit to anybody in a more conscious state of mind - it hurts her. _

_ Shelby turns slowly back towards her daughter, praying to God that the pain inside of her eyes is masked from Rachel's sight, while simultaneously praying even harder to ensure that Rachel would never have to feel this pain as a mother, that she was currently experiencing right now. _

_ "Me neither." Shelby whispers. "But still, they will get the very best of you, Rachel."_

_ Rachel nods, but she miscalculates her mother's hesitation… A part of her remains unwaveringly suspicious of the front that Shelby has been putting on ever since she had woken up. Rachel's skewed thought processing automatically concludes that this is simply Shelby's means of brushing off all of this nervous energy stemming from all of this talk that eventually, the necessity will come for her to let her daughter go._

_ "We'll still visit you, mom…" Rachel adds this final thought quickly in an effort to include Shelby in her personal lay-out of the short future that she plans on living out in its entirety tonight. "You'll be grandma."_

_ "Well thank you for that, Rachel…" Shelby soothes her, brushing a loving hand gently across the top of her head, trying desperately to get Rachel to settle down before the girl worked herself up into a state that not even a rush of adrenaline combined with a healthy dose of morphine could block… But still, it is hard for even her not to dwell on the drugs' effect, the way by which they have placed Rachel into such an unusually talkative mood, babbling excitedly about her future when she has spent these last several days silent, reserved and, well – dying._

_ "We will come visit you every day until you're ninety four." Rachel continues to ramble nonsensically, clearly missing each and every one of Shelby's subtly placed clues trying to get her to relax…_

_ "What happens when I turn ninety four?" Curiosity gets the best of Shelby, who asks despite her previous intentions upon preventing Rachel from getting more riled up than what is for her own good right now. "Will you stop visiting me just because I'm old?" _

_ "No, that's when you'll die…" It is the second time in a matter of moments that Rachel's words manage to take the breath straight from Shelby's throat. _

_Her daughter professes this sentiment so casually, with such a matter-of-fact tone behind her voice that for the briefest of moments, Shelby does not even recognize the implication behind Rachel's words. _

_Abruptly, she takes a sharp, sudden breath inwards. Shelby's muscles stiffen and retreat automatically. She sinks inside of herself, feeling every motion as Noah turns wide-eyed and shell shocked to stare at her. This time, Shelby can't seem to bring herself to meet her son's gaze._

"_Oh…" That seems to be the only thing that Shelby can manage in her response._

"_Yeah…" Rachel nods her head with a confidence in her agreement, but the motion is still remarkably casual… Too casual for Shelby's liking. "You'll die at ninety for. Before me. Just like how it's supposed to be."_

"_Okay Rachel, enough of all of this chatter. You need your rest now. Get some sleep." Shelby silences her daughter quickly before Rachel so much as has the opportunity to continue, partially because the mother is not particularly enjoying the direction that this conversation is steering towards and partially because Rachel really shouldn't be getting herself this worked up so quickly following major surgery. _

"_Promise me that we can go to New York later?" _

_Rachel doesn't protest. She knows that her attempts would be of no use. As it is, the exertion that she has already exhibited has proven enough to send her spiraling downwards towards the path of sheer exhaustion. Her eyes close before she can so much as finish her sentence. _

"_I promise…" Shelby says, careful to mask the lie inside of her voice. _

"_Good…" Rachel mumbles satisfied, only then allowing herself to drift completely into a peaceful oblivion._

_When Rachel opens her eyes again, it is daylight. _

_The details of her previous bout with consciousness are fuzzy, but for some reason, she wakes up expecting to be propped up in the very heart of Times Square. She is disappointed to find only bleary white walls surrounding her. _

_ She at least manages to recognize that she is in an entirely different place from where she had been the last time she'd been awake… The sun is actually up now, but even still, the lights inside of her room are not nearly as blinding as they had been before._

_ If there is one thing that she can accurately place that hasn't changed, it is that the pain is still there, radiating and today, more prominent than ever before. It burrows deep inside of her gut, forcing her to cringe violently, a sharp stinging sensation that manifests inside of an inward display of agony that just barely passes from beyond her dry, parched lips. _

_Nobody seems to notice. _

"_Her fever spiked late last night…" _

_ A string of words materialize from out of thin air, but the sounds are meshing together and the world still looks to Rachel as though it has been draped by a dark sheet so that it is difficult for her to find the source. _

_ "It got up to 103 before the doctors had to start packing her body with ice. They've been giving her the strongest antibiotics that they can for at least four or five hours now, but none of it seems to be making much of a difference… Her temperature is still going up. We'll just have to wait and see how this all plays out."_

_ "Do you think that the transplant is failing?" The immediate response is frazzled and diluted with nervous energy. The thud of heavy footsteps pacing back and forth begins to thud against Rachel's temples. The gentle pulse does not provide any glimpse of comfort onto the girl, whom they are clearly discussing. "Can she be rejecting it this early?"_

_ "Her body could have started rejecting that kidney the second that it was placed inside of her body, Noah…" Shelby's nervous form slowly begins to materialize in front of Rachel's eyes. The piercing sunlight creates a series of blind spots that bring her mother periodically into and out of focus. The dizziness that is currently overwhelming Rachel makes it so that the entire room appears to be swaying…_

_ Noah paces in circles which does nothing for Rachel's current predicament against her own equilibrium. Shelby stands firmly in the center of his motions. Rachel is strongly reminded of an image of the Earth orbiting around the stationary sun. _

_ Noah looks a nervous wreck. Her mother on the other hand, appears impossibly stern. Her spine is stiff, hands pressed against her hips which jut slightly outwards._

_ To the untrained eye, Shelby Corcoran is the portrait of absolute confidence. To Rachel, it is a front that her body performs naturally in an effort to hide just how worried she truly is. _

_ Rachel knows the posture well, she has inherited it to the exact directly from her mother. _

_ "She'll have to worry about the potential of rejecting it until the day she dies… That's just a reality that we're all going to have to live with from now on. But the doctor's said that an infection in Rachel's case was practically inevitable, they were prepared for it and for the time being, they have it isolated to the incision site and the underlying tissue only. The CT that they took this morning showed that the kidney hadn't been affected – yet… But if the antibiotics don't work and the infection keeps on spreading… who knows what will happen then."_

_ "Have you told her?"_

_ "I haven't had the chance to." Shelby sighs. She has begun spinning about in concentric circles in an attempt to maintain eye contact with Noah, who has yet to stop pacing. Rachel wonders whether or not she even realizes what it is that she is doing. "She hasn't been awake since she was in recovery last night… That was almost twenty four hours ago now, I don't know if I should start being worried or what…"_

_Start being worried? Rachel can't help but to think that it is much too late for that. _

"_Not about the infection…"_

_ Noah's explanation cuts Shelby off quickly. He sounds terribly serious and leaves behind in his wake, a silence that has Rachel's ears perking instinctively, waiting to hear what is coming next – "I meant about where that kidney actually came from."_

_ "Of course not, Noah, don't be ridiculous." Shelby's response is quick and articulated. In Rachel's mind, it drips with suspicion. "Look at the state that she's in. Rachel needs to be focusing on her recovery right now and nothing else. You know your sister, if she finds out it will devastate her and who knows what that will do for her recovery."_

_ "I don't know, mom…" Noah inadvertently becomes Rachel's advocate, speaking for her when she cannot speak for herself. It is a common theme in their relationship, but the fact that even he sounds so uncertain tells Rachel that whatever it is that they are hiding from her, it is something bit…_

_Big enough to leave Shelby absolutely determined to keep it from Rachel at any cost, at least. _

_Positioning herself strategically from inside of her bed, Rachel makes every and any attempt to catch some sort of context clues that may make her a little more aware of what was going on here… She moves as subtly as possible out of fear of the understanding that Shelby and Noah will not hesitate to cut their conversation short the second that they discovered Rachel to actually be awake and listening in. _

_ "We will tell her Noah… eventually." Shelby speaks as though she is trying to prepare herself for this moment more than her son. She does however leave the word 'eventually' lingering with a remarkable air of openness, indicating that should Shelby have anything to say about it, eventually will in fact be an incredibly long time coming. "She isn't ready, Noah. We need for her to have all of her energy focused on getting better; especially right now."_

_ "Fine," Noah concedes much easier than Rachel would have preferred, pausing in his motions and crossing his arms firmly across his chest. "Just remember that the longer we wait the harder Rachel's gonna take it, and when she does finally find out, it's not going to be pretty."_

_Shelby doesn't have time to respond. _

_From inside of her bed, Rachel slips slightly from her position propped against her elbow and a burst of lightning explodes violently through her core, creating a sharp pain so prominent that she cannot help but to be vocal in her reaction. _

_ She grunts in her agony. Shelby and Noah silence with an abruptness that slices through the room like a knife. For a moment, they are still and stiff, like a pair of deer in the headlights, fearfully evaluating whether or not Rachel has heard any of the conversation that they had been so desperately trying to keep from her, but the fear diminishes quickly with the obviousness of just how much pain the girl is in._

_ "Rachel… Rachel, are you okay?" They have been waiting for nearly an entire day for Rachel to open her eyes, but still this is not the awakening that they had envisioned… Rachel falls into a fetal position, her eyes closed and teeth clenching so tightly that her jaw aches. _

_ Her senses quickly diminish into a rainbow of color, her mind occupied by one conscious thought and one thought only, that being just how much pain that she is currently in and what she may be able to do in order to get rid of it. All thoughts directed towards suspicion of her mother or her brother are immediately erased, replaced only by this unbearable pain._

_ "Rachel honey, talk to me."_

_ They hover above her and shout orders to both her and each other, but the world has transformed into nothing beyond this dazzling light show that Rachel finds, she is more than happy to sink herself inside of, away from this heartache, away from this confusion, away from this pain…_

_For once in her life. _

_She blinks her eyes and she is wide awake once more._

_Except this time, Rachel does not immediately see the faces of her mother and her brother in front of her and the room is now dark, lit only by a dull lamp that hangs directly over her own head._

_ She's in a different place again. _

_ Rachel has absolutely no idea what time it is or how long it has been since she has last been conscious; one hour, two hours, twenty – who knows – and this thought alone is enough to terrify Rachel into submission._

_ "So what, is she like… a vegetable now?"_

_ A voice flutters against her ears like a snow fall. It is obvious that it is not addressing her, and it is with a sense of comfort that Rachel deduces that there are at least two other people inside of this mysterious place alongside her._

_ Rachel attempts to place the voice. It's female, definitely female and distantly familiar but it is not her mother and beyond that, Rachel is drawing a complete blank._

_ "She's not a vegetable!" There is not a speck of doubt inside of Rachel's mind that this is her brother speaking. He sounds brutally exhausted and instinctively defensive. Rachel bursts automatically with pride that he would think to correct the mistake so quickly, such a stupid error as to compare Rachel to being trapped inside of some obscure vegetative state when it is obvious that she is wide awake and right here besides them. "It's just that, well… the infection is spreading so that her body's natural way of trying to ward it off is to pretty much shut down and preserve what energy she does have left into fighting it… At least… at least that's what the doctor's keep saying anyway, I don't know, I don't really understand the whole thing… It tends to get a little confusing."_

_ "So basically, she's a vegetable." Rachel has not the slightest idea who this person talking is, but she is suddenly overcome with the desire to give whoever it is a strong piece of her mind. _

_ Rachel's face scrunches in concentration, her lips part as if to speak and – _

_Nothing ever comes out. _

_Rachel's blood freezes in an instantaneous panic. She tries to move, she tries to shout for help but there is nothing and the harder that Rachel tries, the more futile her attempts seem to be. _

_ She is trapped inside of the depths of her own mind, and with not very many options left, Rachel suddenly gets to thinking…_

_Maybe she is a vegetable._

"_She's not!" Noah's voice raises, but his voice falters and this does not make Rachel feel any better about her current crisis. "She's just… she's… The doctors say that it won't last forever unless…"_

_ Noah pauses._

_ He is pacing again, just like the last time and comes quickly into Rachel's view. He is still wearing the same clothes that he had been in the last time that Rachel remembers seeing him. She tries to convince herself that this is a good sign, that it means that she couldn't have been that out of it for that long, but in reality, Rachel knows that this means nothing._

_ "Unless what, Noah?" A blonde comes up behind him… Quinn. Rachel should have known. It always seems to be Quinn. _

_ "Unless the infection keeps on spreading… and the antibiotics don't work." Noah reaches up. He places his clasped hands behind his head and breathes deeply in an expression of pure defeat. Rachel can tell from all the way across the room just how sad Noah's eyes are, and Rachel immediately feels terribly that she cannot seem to muster up the energy that she needs in order to comfort Noah, to tell him that she was going to be just fine. "They say that if it makes its way into her kidney and destroys it, and then if it finds its way inside of her bloodstream… well than that's it. There won't be anything that they can do. She'll basically just stay just like this until one day she just… isn't."_

_ "Hey, Noah…"_

_ "Yeah?" Noah responds absently to Quinn's questioning in the midst of his soliloquy. There is a distinct lack of interest inside of his voice. It is empty and so unlike her brother that at first, Rachel doesn't even recognize him. _

_ "I think that she might be awake…" Quinn is staring directly at her now and it is making Rachel remarkably uncomfortable, the way that she is looking… Rachel attempts to shift out from underneath Quinn's intense gaze, but as expected, Rachel cannot so much as lift her pinky. She is stuck._

_ Noah's eyes dart quickly, exuberant with the potential of hope for but the briefest of seconds before his muscles sink once more alongside an expression that fizzles dramatically._

_ "No, she isn't…" Noah sighs and turns his back away from Rachel, leaving the girl wanting nothing more than to jump out of bed, shake him by the shoulders and scream, asking him what the hell is wrong with him, thinking that she isn't awake when clearly, she is right here, wide awake and fully conscious._

_ Of course, her body has other plans. She doesn't move._

_ "She does that sometimes, opens her eyes and just kind of stares. She never actually talks or moves or anything like that… They say that it is probably just a reflex."_

_ "Can she hear me at all?" A large blonde face pops suddenly in front of her own. Rachel is startled but her expression shows no external response. "Hello?" Quinn asks her tentatively, "Are you in there?" _

_ Rachel wants to scream. She wants to reach out, she wants to grab Quinn by the shoulders and ask her if she is actively trying to insult her or this is a habit that just comes naturally, a habit that she has improved upon, but still has yet to break completely free of. _

'_Of course I am in here.'_

_She thinks it, but this time she doesn't even bother trying. Her efforts would be futile and Rachel knows it. She is at a complete loss of control over her own body. _

_ Rachel's lack of effort has her reconsidering her initial insistencies upon actually being in here… Maybe she isn't in here, after all._

_ She remembers suddenly, some of the things that the doctors told her would happen to her at the time that they still believed death to be the only plausible end point, what it might be like as she slipped away, as they so often liked to call it._

_ It would start with her having less and less energy with each passing day. She wouldn't want to eat very much anymore, or even at all. She would grow more tired more quickly, she would sleep more and more until one day, she would go to sleep and she wouldn't wake up. They had told her that she would soon lose her inability to speak, to move, to touch, to feel…_

_ Her hearing would go last._

_ Briefly, Rachel wonders whether or not this is what is happening to her right now and she grows distinctly and suddenly terrified of the idea of having to close her eyes for fear that she will never be able to open them again._

"_No. She can't hear you."_

_Noah falsely answers Quinn's previous testimony for her. At least this explains why him and Shelby had felt so comfortable speaking – albeit vaguely – in terms of deep secrets that they didn't want her to hear with her sitting right there… They didn't think that she could hear them when the truth was, hearing them was the only thing that she had left anymore. Some surprise they were in for when she finally did get better again._

_ If she ever did get better again._

_ "She'll be fine, Noah…" Quinn refrains from making any more light-hearted comments or quick jives about Rachel's condition at her expense. Her tune changes quickly to one of distinct comfort as she attempts to pass along a sense of support upon a grieving friend. "She hasn't made it this far to let something like this beat her. Besides… she has a guardian angel now. Santana isn't going to let anything bad happen to Rachel."_

_ Of all the bizarre comments that Rachel has been hearing lately, this one strikes her as particularly peculiar. _

_ After being such a prominent part of their lives for so many weeks, it is not exactly a secret that Santana had all but disappeared from their lives entirely ever since… The rough transition had not felt particularly good. Rachel knows that the abandonment had hurt her, and she is certain that it had eaten Noah up inside… She is even relatively certain that her own mother was left writhing from the blow, although Rachel knows her well enough not to expect Shelby to admit this._

_ But with Santana's crazy family situation – more messed up than even her own – Rachel can at least partially understand where it is that the fiery young Latina had been coming from._

_Quinn's comment only further enhances Rachel's fear towards her lack of knowledge towards just how long she has been unconscious for. Just how many days of her life had she missed after all?_

_ If Santana has managed to break free of the suffocating chains that her family has locked into place around her, not only reemerging as a prominent figure in the Corcoran's lives but also assigning herself the proclaimed post of 'guardian angel' Rachel can only assume that the answer to her own question is one that she will be better off not looking for._

"_I miss her."_

_Now Rachel is officially confused. She has so many questions that demand so many answers, but her sedentary body does not seem to want to cooperate with her swirling brain, and it fascinates Rachel, the idea that her mind can be so coherently aware while her body is left so, well… dead._

_ "I know." Quinn nods in her agreement before the two silence simultaneously. Rachel knows that they are not doing this purposefully just to spite her, but still, it is almost as though Quinn and her brother are relishing boastingly upon some sort of sick, twisted inside joke that they know that Rachel is unaware, rubbing it relentlessly inside of the younger girl's face just because they know just how much Rachel can't stand being left out in the dark._

_ The blood begins to pound at warp speed inside of Rachel's temples. Her head is literally throbbing, she is so confused, but she embraces it. It is the first physical entity Rachel has managed to feel since she has opened her eyes._

_ "Did you have a chance to tell Rachel about… about… well, you know? I mean, before all of this happened?"_

_ "No." Noah speaks firmly, and although he seems to have a perfect understanding of exactly what it is that Quinn is referring, to Rachel, the blonde might as well have just spoken in tongues. "I wanted to tell her right away but my mom was pretty against that idea… She said that it would interfere with Rachel's recovery, so much for that, huh? I guess she's right though, I mean… how the hell am I supposed to tell Rachel the truth about where her kidney came from, especially after all of that stuff that we went through about me being a possible donor…"_

_ "Nobody said that it was gonna be easy, Noah."_

_ "I know…" Noah turns his head slowly until his eyes lock with Rachel's although the boy makes no conscious indication towards her. It is almost as though he might as well be staring directly at the wall… Rachel tries to avoid thinking that in her current state, he might as well be. "But still, things shouldn't be this hard… How do I tell her? After everything that she's been through, how am I supposed to drop another bomb on her next?"_

_ He pauses for an extended silence, sighing so dramatically that he could rival Rachel's self-appointed title as head diva of their family at the moment._

"_How the hell am I supposed to tell her that Santana was her kidney donor… that she's… that she's dead?"_

* * *

><p>"Hey, Rachel…"<p>

The girl's eyes dart up from the processed image of her own reflection before her. Her hands drop quickly from the outline of her smooth stomach, coming to rest at a position of attention tightly against her sides as her mother rounds the corner inside of her bedroom.

It is obvious, what Rachel had been doing before the intrusion, obvious that she had been studying and scrutinizing her own mirror image - or more profoundly, its imperfections - as she has been so prone to doing these days… But today, Rachel is granted a miraculous break from her mother's unwavering concern as the older woman's normally sharp poise is delayed by the surprise of her interfering on Rachel's partial nudity.

Reflexively, Shelby turns her eyes away immediately - before she can truly process the scene before her - in an effort to protect what little of her teenage daughter's modesty was actually left.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" Shelby apologizes quickly, ducking back out of Rachel's room and into the hallway as Rachel's muscles, previously tense with the fear of being caught relax through a heavy sigh.

"No… no, it's alright…" Rachel quickly dismisses Shelby's words, forcing her eyes prematurely away from the mirror, before she can properly conclude yet another designation of all of her prominent faults. She turns her back upon her own reflection with a sense of relief towards the escape, so that each and every extension of her spine pops prominently down the length of the center of her back, bouncing awkwardly against the light in a manner that makes it appear as though a shadow has been cast across the entirety of the small room.

Rachel tries desperately to feign indifference. She saunters casually back towards her bed, picking quickly from the array of potential outfits that she has already laid out. She settles on a modest sun dress that does its best at hiding all of the faults that lay just beneath the fabric, throwing it over her head quickly to cover the exposed skin. When she turns back around, Shelby is staring all over again.

The mother's arms are crossed in diligent observation. Leaning slightly, she supports the majority of her body weight against the door frame. Her eyes are full with a concern that makes Rachel cringe. It doesn't take the girl very long to be all but forced to duck back towards the mirror in order to escape her mother's prying glare.

"Are you okay?" Shelby invites herself inside of Rachel's room once more, sauntering slowly towards her daughter.

Slipping behind her, Shelby's slightly taller frame appears hovered above Rachel's own. Rachel watches the motion of her mother's eyes, as Shelby meets the image of her own reflection. The younger girl is left distinctly wondering whether or not her mother thinks the same thing that she does every time she looks inside of a mirror these days, whether she wonders who this person staring back at her that she doesn't even recognize anymore is…

"I'm fine." Rachel's immediate dismissal of Shelby's concern is a natural reaction. She ducks out from beneath her mother's touch, tip-toeing slightly until she is safe to drop her body into a seated position against her own bed.

"Rachel…" Shelby sighs heavily as though in warning. They have had this conversation a million times before, a fact that Rachel knows just as much as Shelby does…

The mother places her hands firmly against her hips. Her eyes drop from the mirror, down onto the floor, closing only briefly for patience. Rachel knows that Shelby wants nothing more than for her own daughter to feel comfortable confiding in her again, and normally Rachel was willing to talk to Shelby with such ease, but the girl has just been so _distant_ lately, everybody felt it and they would be lying if they were to say that the tendency was not starting to concern them.

"I know you, Rach, I know that look in your eyes…" Finally, Shelby turns back towards her daughter, offering her a small smile as if trying to get Rachel to mimic her, but the motion falters when Rachel's expression doesn't change. "You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Yeah…" Rachel mutters softly in her return.

"So I'm gonna ask you this one more time, and this time I'm gonna need you to be honest with me, okay?" She says, and Rachel knows what is coming but she braces herself anyway. "Are you okay?"

"I don't think that I can do this mom…" Shelby all but pulls the words out from the back of her throat with her granting Rachel permission to release everything inside of her. Admittedly, Rachel takes off with the idea without even particularly intending to. Her mouth spews confessions faster than what even she can keep up with.

But she has every reason to be nervous.

Rachel Corcoran has not stepped foot inside of William McKinley High School since November. And even before the student body had lit up with the knowledge that she had become some sort of human science experiment gone terribly awry, Rachel has always been the brunt of the worst kinds of gossip and rumor. Being that loser kid sister of the most popular kid in school, people tended to talk.

After everything that has happened in these last couple of months, the idea of thrusting herself straight into the line of fire terrifies her, especially with all of her battle scars brandished so obviously across her body.

"Don't say that, Rachel…" Shelby drops herself down inside of the bed besides her daughter. Her fingers reach up to brush along the thin wisps of hair finally beginning to sprout up across the top of Rachel's head. The action inadvertently causes a reaction that is the exact opposite of comfort in Rachel's eyes as Shelby involuntarily emphasizes all of the abnormalities that Rachel has feared to begin with by placing an exaggeration upon her appearance, an idea that she already knows, that she is a freak…

And that is putting things in the most modest terms possible.

"Why not, it's true!" Rachel argues back violently, tears springing inside of her eyes as her voice trembles in her attempt to control it, trying desperately not to call upon the attention of her brother, who does not need the biggest day of his life thus far destroyed by the emotional wreck that his sister has since become.

"Rachel…" Shelby sighs heavily, her spine stiffening as her arms droop back down to her sides. She pauses, licking her lips in a not-so-subtle attempt to convey the idea that she is taking her time in trying to figure out what it is that she can say to her clearly ailing daughter. "I know that our family's situation is… well, different and that it's not exactly a secret, everything that we've been going through… But honey hiding away like this, it isn't like you… I know that it's easy to get stuck inside of everything that you're afraid of and with all of the things that you have been through in these past couple of months, in your entire life really, it's okay to be a little bit hesitant about everything that's out there hiding in the shadows, but Rachel, you can't allow yourself to get lost inside of that fear."

"So… what you're saying is that it's okay to be a little bit scared…" Rachel paraphrases Shelby's words, interpreting them in her own manner as she hesitantly asks for permission to implement her mother's advice.

"It's okay to be a little bit scared." Shelby confirms with a confident nod of her head. "It's okay because you have me and you have Noah and you have a whole lot of other people in your life who all love you very much and who are willing to do absolutely anything to help push you past that fear and get you back on your own two feet again."

"Is it okay to be angry?" Rachel risks the question as long as her and Shelby are being honest with each other… But her voice drops nervously as though unsure as to whether or not she should be making this revelation although Rachel doubts very much that it is a secret, she can only blame her violent mood swings on the steroids so much. The rest was entirely inside of her own heart. Rachel was distant, Rachel was withdrawn. She has been so unlike herself lately and angrier than she has ever been in her entire life… so angry that it scared her.

In hindsight, Rachel is certain that her being angry and her being scared were two emotions that go hand-in-hand with each other. The truth is that it is her hanger that terrifies her the most out of anything.

"It's okay to be a little bit angry," Shelby nods but her eyes are sad, leading Rachel to believe that she is just saying this to help Rachel feel better about the plethora of emotions currently clogging her head. "But Rachel, you can't allow yourself to get stuck inside of that anger. You can't get lost inside of this feeling of being angry all the time… If you do that, then Rachel… where will you be? Who will you be?"

Shelby's hand reaches up and rests against the center of Rachel's back, directly in between her sharp shoulder blades. Rachel, in turn hangs her head as though embarrassed… She almost wishes that she had just kept her mouth shut.

But her mother is right.

Rachel is losing a piece of herself with every day that she allows to pass feeling this empty, this terribly void inside. Her life, her dreams, her focus, they are all getting harder and harder to see, such a vibrant future being skewed by something so seemingly simple as a little bit of emotion… Rachel can't understand why, for the life of her she can't just look past it all.

"I just can't stop thinking about what will happen if I can't catch up in school after all of this, if I start to fall behind… What will happen if I get pushed so far back that I don't get into NYADA or Julliard or NYU? What will happen if I don't go to New York or make it onto Broadway all because I just can't see it anymore?"

Shelby's soft smile doesn't falter but her eyes darken as they have been so prone to doing any time Rachel ever mentions going away to school in New York lately…

It is not the first time that Rachel has gotten the impression that the idea of her going as far away as to New York for college is an idea too painful for Shelby to possibly comprehend. Today, with Noah mere hours away from graduating high school, Rachel knows it hurts particularly bad.

It crosses Rachel's mind, the idea that Shelby's biggest fear is being alone.

A pang of guilt enters inside of the center of Rachel's chest. She observes her mother carefully, the lines that emphasize once youthful features and she realizes with a pang of anguish, that every single hint of premature aging that graces across Shelby's body is a direct result of her.

"You don't want me to go to New York, do you?"

Shelby laughs, but the pain is still there.

"Rachel, I want everything you could ever possibly want for yourself and beyond that…" Shelby offers Rachel a small half smile, an all-knowing grin as if to tell her that these conflicting emotions that she was currently facing was something that Rachel could never possibly understand until the day that she became a mother herself.

"For some reason, I don't believe you… about New York, anyway." Rachel quickly adds that last bit because there is not a doubt in her mind that otherwise, Shelby wants only what is for her very best interest.

The problem she faces now is that Rachel can't help but to think that her mother's opinion on what may be best for her as compared to her own may take them in two completely opposite paths.

"Rachel, I have known that Broadway was in your future since the day that you sang your first word instead of speaking it…" Shelby shakes her head through a soft, nostalgic laugh, "Trust me, this plan of yours does not exactly come across as a surprise to me… I have spent the last sixteen years preparing for the inevitability of you leaving home and finding your fame in the place that you truly belong… And now, I know that I still have two more years to figure out how it is that I'm gonna survive you leaving home, but with Noah getting ready to leave for school soon, I'm starting to realize that letting the two of you go is going to be the hardest thing that I will ever have to do, no matter how ready I think that I may be."

"Maybe you can come to New York with me… You know, for old time's sake." Rachel shrugs casually in her suggestion, half joking yet at the same time, completely serious. "Think about how much the two of us would dominate on Broadway together… We would be unstoppable."

"Yeah…" Shelby makes a short gesture of amusement, "I think that my days in New York are long behind me, Rae."

"Oh…" Rachel's shoulders sink visibly, pained by the rejection.

"Hey, but that doesn't mean that yours can't only just be starting." She smiles confidently at her daughter, her touch brushing beneath the girl's chin, using the tips of her fingers to lift her head high into the air once more…

"Do you know how I know that you're gonna be okay, Rachel?"

"How?"

"Because you have already proven to me time and time again that you can do absolutely anything that you set your mind to, no matter what the odds stacked against you may be." Her face is scrunched with a serious honesty before fading into a soft demeanor once more in an effort to thin out the thick air in between them. "You are going to be amazing, Rachel. In whatever you choose to do. I'm not worried about you making it, not at all… So while you are stuck here panicking about finishing high school or getting into NYADA, I'll be here too with you to remind you of just how good you are… and to level you out just in case I make your ego a little bit too high. Worst case scenario, I may still have a couple of connections over on the Broadway scene."

"Thanks mom…" Rachel smiles in her appreciation, reaching quickly upwards in order to wipe away at the moisture that has begun collecting against the undersides of her eyes… She takes a deep breath, grateful for the relief against the previous constriction against her lungs now that it no longer feels as though she has a hundred pound weight sitting against her chest. Mostly, she is overwhelmed with the distraction of an opportunity to have her mother help her through _normal_ teenage girl problems for a change.

It's nice, the reminder that maybe she is not as different as she had thought after all.

"But still, I'm going to have to say no to your offer…" Rachel perks, clapping her hands together with finality as she declines Shelby's previous sentiments on her willingness to call in a couple of favors on her behalf. "I refuse to be known as that girl that made it onto Broadway based on anything other than my pure talent alone which is why I've already to decided to take my first and middle name to the stage only… I just have to drop my last name, I'm sure you can understand."

"I'm sure that I'll be able to find a way to get by." Shelby mocks offense but it is hard to conceal her joy. This is more like the Rachel that she had always known was still buried deep down inside of their somewhere.

The air between them lingers. Mother and daughter fall into silence, but it is comfortable. Shelby can only watch her daughter, wide-eyed with an astonishment that settles deep inside of the very pit of her stomach.

"How did I get so lucky?" She eventually manages words to appropriately describe what it is that she is feeling. "You know, between you and your brother I'm pretty sure that I hit the jackpot."

"Well, I don't know so much about Noah…" Rachel jokes, but that is only to hide the dark red flush that has begun to creep its way inside of her cheeks… She just can't seem to comprehend how it is that Shelby can still consider herself lucky to have been stuck with her as a daughter after everything that Rachel had put her through.

"Yeah…" Shelby murmurs through her amazement and a lopsided smile. Pausing, she soaks the moment all in as slowly as possible. Rachel is just starting to get the sense that they are sitting side-by-side for hours when finally, with a sudden burst of energy, Shelby pushes herself sharply onto her feet once more.

"Now hurry up and get ready." She orders. "Your brother is already making us late enough for his own graduation as it is."

"Okay." Rachel nods her head and follows her mother into a standing position, the feeling of weighing profoundly less than she had the last time she had been on her feet aiding her motions with an ease of relief.

Shelby shuffles back out towards the hallway, pausing only briefly in front of Rachel's vanity, littered with a dancing array of pill bottles, vast and numerous bordered by a slew of natural remedies produced by hours of research that Shelby had practically wasted away on the computer piecing together bit by bit…

Vitamin A helps to replenish her depleted immune system; Vitamin E provides an edge to help bring her disease-ravaged body back from its state of disarray… Calcium and iron and potassium for her brittle bones, depleted muscles and weakened organ system. Some weird Indian root that Rachel can never remember the name of that Shelby read words a dual effect of both slowing the growth of cancer cells and reducing the inflammatory effects of the immune system – perfect in the case of transplant recipients…

"Hey Rachel, one more thing…" Shelby turns back around to face her daughter once more. Curious, Rachel glances up at her, silently imploring her to continue.

"I'm so proud of you." She tells the girl after a brief pause. "You remember that."

* * *

><p><em>It's late in the afternoon and the sky has been grey and overcast all day, which as it turns out, ends up being a perfect indicator of the mood that Rachel is in today.<em>

"_Do you think that it's a good idea to start her back on chemotherapy so soon after everything has happened?" They talk about her as though she isn't even here, her mother asking all of the questions to her doctor on her behalf, even though Rachel is no longer nearly as incapacitated as she had been a week ago now after the kidney transplant that was supposed to save her life had nearly killed her, and still very much so could._

_ "Putting it off any longer wouldn't be wise, Shelby…" In equal fashion, Rachel's own doctor talks directly to everybody except for Rachel herself. His back is facing the young girl, he doesn't even face her as he speaks. "This little roadblock, it has basically pushed us straight back to square one with Rachel's treatments. I know that it was easy to get caught up in the relief of the transplant, but now we have to go back to the very beginning, the one where Rachel isn't even close to being out of the woods yet. In Rachel's case, it's safe to assume that a fast, high intensity cycle of chemotherapy followed by a long term consolidation round that will last anywhere from the next six months to the next two years will be in Rachel's best interest… It all depends on how her body responds."_

_ Rachel swallows heavily and closes her eyes against the bad news. The idea of being stuck inside of this hospital, being shuffled into and out of treatment programs for the next six months, let alone two years is enough to make her wish that this transplant never even happened to begin with._

_ She would be better off dead. _

_ "But what about her recovery from the transplant, won't that be negatively affected by pumping her with high dosage cytotoxic chemicals so soon after surgery?"_

_ "Shelby, you have to remember that Rachel's issues with her kidneys are not the only problem that she is facing right now…" Rachel tells herself that the doctor is choosing to solely address Shelby only because he knows that this is a fact impossible for Rachel to ever forget. They are trapped inside of a vicious Catch-22. Treat Rachel's cancer, and eventually, her kidneys will end up killing her. Treat Rachel's kidneys and it is the cancer that ultimately will get her. "Now, I'm not saying that this is going to be an easy road, but Rachel's predicament is time sensitive. We've already waited much longer than what we can afford. The infection is clearing from her system better than we could have anticipated. She will remain in the hospital under vigilant observation on a healthy dose of antibiotics as well as a regimen to prevent her kidney from rejecting… The biggest concern that we have to face now is in the extent that this will suppress her immune system, but with strict precautions and a lot of extra care, there is no reason to think that Rachel can't handle this… She has already proven to us just how much of a fighter she is."_

_Shelby's lingering expression of uncertainty is interrupted by the door slamming open as though it had just been blown by a hurricane. _

_Noah barrels inside. He looks hurried and impossibly flustered. But the first thing that Rachel notices is that he is dressed up; black slacks with a thin, equally black tie pressed fresh against a white button down. He's gotten a haircut since the last time that Rachel has seen him late last night the Mohawk that he was only just starting to grow back again has vanished once more._

_ He looks somehow older than yesterday, aged from experience yet at the same time, frightened like a child. His clothes are disheveled, his eyes wide and aware._

_To Rachel, Noah looks almost lost. _

"_Uh… sorry I'm late." He mutters awkwardly. Nobody bothers to point out that there was never actually a designated meeting scheduled for him to be late to._

_ "No, that's fine Noah…" The doctor waves off Noah's apology. In contrast, Rachel had not been planning to go so easy on him. "We were just starting to lay out a long-term treatment plan for Rachel here, it's nothing that you can't be filled in on."_

_ "Oh…" Noah relaxes, but only minimally as his eyes dart quickly about the room, travelling from Shelby to Dr. McCarthy to the nurse absently jotting numbers against Rachel's chart and straight back to Shelby… He doesn't look at Rachel once._

_Instead, they all stare as though they know something that she doesn't. It makes her distinctly fidgety and visibly uncomfortable._

_It takes Noah a long time to finally make eye contact with his sister. He stares at her and in turn, she stares right back at him. He looks deep, almost serene…_

_But it doesn't last very long. Noah's head turns quickly away as he shoves his hands deep inside of his pockets. _

_It's only then that she realizes that he is trembling._

"_Shelby, if you don't mind coming with me, I just have a few things for you to fill out before we can move Rachel out of ICU and back downstairs… finally." Dr. McCarthy nods his head towards Rachel's direction for the first time all morning, offering her a small smile as he plays off of the feeling of relief that she knows she should be feeling towards being deemed healthy enough to be moved out of the prison that is intensive care, but just doesn't feel it…_

_ Rachel tries to mimic the expression in an effort to be polite, but a grimace is all that she can manage. _

_ "Sure…" Shelby stands to her feet but she does not look particularly pleased. Three days ago when Rachel's fever had finally begun to break, after the girl had finally managed to claw her way out of that bizarre, semi-conscious dream state that she remembers so little of it might as well have lasted three minutes, forget three days, Shelby had begun to revert back to her old habits of refusing to leave Rachel's side._

_ She hasn't moved. Not once._

_ Nobody has been able to get Shelby out of this hospital. Not Noah, not Krista, not even Rachel, and while Rachel was chopping at the bit for a little bit of freedom, in Shelby's eyes, leaving for five minutes was the equivalent to leaving for five years._

_But the second that it becomes no more than Rachel and Noah inside of the room, things quickly grow distinctly uncomfortable._

_Noah has spent the last three days busy trying to keep the secret that he doesn't know his sister is already very much aware of. Rachel on the other hand is busy waiting for Noah to come clean with the truth that she believes she has every right be told – to actually be told – on his own accord. _

_ It's not like him to keep things from her, especially something like this. Rachel has tried to understand, she has tried to reason that the wound is still fresh and painful, that it hurts to so much as think about let alone talk about… She even gets that her mother may be against her knowing the truth in every sense of the term, but really, when has complications such as these ever stopped Noah before?_

_ She has since dismissed all attempts towards logic as futile. A distinct anger has begun to bubble deep inside of her gut._

_ It is unfair – Rachel knows this – getting mad at her brother who is still freshly immersed inside of the painful grieving process for a situation that is well beyond his control, but right now Rachel simply needs somebody to be angry with and seeing as how he is existing, and she is existing, but neither of them seem to be existing together anymore, it is very easy for Rachel to push aside the reminder that Noah is hurting just as much as she is right now._

_Forget the fact that toying with an emotionally vulnerable Noah is as dangerous as poking a sleeping tiger._

"_What are you all dressed up for?"_

_ Rachel's voice is tainted with a sense of all-knowing accusation that should Noah have been in a more stable state of mind, he would have caught onto immediately. _

_ "Uh, nothing, I um… I…" He is thrown off by her question, probably still getting used to the idea that she can actually communicate again. He stutters for a quick and believable lie although Rachel can't help but to think that he should have been better prepared for a question that should have been obvious. _

_He probably liked it better when she couldn't talk. _

"_I had a few last minute interviews this morning… college stuff, you know…" He ultimately settles on a nice story, but it would have been much more believable had he not taken so long in delivering it. _

_ "I thought that you were all set on Wittenberg already." Rachel toys with him, but it is strictly out of maliciousness. Her frustration is rising and in that, she has made it her mission to make her brother as uncomfortable as humanly possible before dropping the bomb._

_She wants him to figure out for himself everything that she knows he is hiding. _

_Anyway, his outfit is no way near receptive of a college interview. Rachel knows that if there is one thing in this world that her brother is good at, it is making impressions, and looking a disheveled, emotional wreck is just about the furthest from impressive as one can possibly get. _

_ His attire, the way he is handling himself, the devastation that is written clear across his face, it screams funeral, and Rachel may be sick, and she may be recovering from a near-death experience, but she is not an idiot – Rachel knows exactly how to put two and two together. _

_ Santana had been her kidney donor. Santana was dead. It has been exactly eight days since that day and according to both Shelby and Noah, Rachel was still much too weak to be able to tolerate the truth. _

_Yeah. Right._

"_Yeah, I uh… I just had to do some, uh… some confirmation stuff… a follow up and…" _

_ "Stop lying to me, Noah!" His pathetic attempts put Rachel over the edge entirely. She boils over in an explosion of energy that leaves her still-recovering, devastated body protesting violently. A wave of dizziness overwhelms her. Rachel is lucky that she had already been lying down or else, she would have fallen down. _

_Ironically, it wasn't the truth threatening to damage her fragile body after all, but the plethora of lies instead. _

"_W-what?" Noah stutters. It is clear that he is thrown aback by Rachel's outburst, but Noah is determined to keep his cover. If there is one thing that the Corcoran's are good at, it is showing face. Neither ever present their weakness as a physical entity, a trait that usually turns out to be as much as a curse as it is a blessing._

_ "You and mom must think that I'm some sort of moron, huh?" _

_ Rachel's accusation silences them both. Noah's face contorts with an overwhelming array of conflicting emotion that makes Rachel's head hurt every time she attempts to stare long enough to decipher it, but still she refuses to look away. _

_ "What are you talking about?" He is persistent. It is a characteristic that Rachel has always admired about her brother although today, it makes her want to reach out and throttle him. _

_ "Did you really think that I couldn't hear anything that was going on around me these last couple of days just because I was a little bit out of it?" Rachel asks him, "'Oh, she does that sometimes, opens her eyes and just kind of stares… She never actually talks or moves, just kind of lays there'" Tears filter across Rachel's eyes as she mocks the words that Noah had spoken to Quinn just the other day by repeating them nearly verbatim. Noah blanches visibly, recognizing instantaneously, the direction that this conversation is about to head towards. "Come on Noah, it isn't like this is your first time around the block… I thought that you would have at least a little bit more sense than that!"_

_ "Rachel… I…" The boy stutters blindly. His sister is being uncharacteristically blunt and harsh in her mannerisms, and he isn't entirely sure how it is that he should be handling this… Especially when he knows that she has a point._

_ Noah's skewed perception of the world tilts only further on its axis._

_ "Save it, Noah…" Rachel's tone is harsh and distant in a clear display of anger. Noah isn't so sure that he would be able to formulate a proper argument against her even if he wanted to. "I'm sick of everybody around here trying to hide the truth from me like I will break the second that I get a couple of answers! I'm not a child anymore I can handle these kinds of things!"_

_She is yelling now, and considering the fact that so much as talking remains an exhausting chore for Rachel these days, it doesn't take very long for her energy to begin to deplete… She quickly begins to tremble. Rachel's forehead breaks out into a cold, glistening sweat, the low-grade fever that she is still running aided involuntarily by a flurry of emotion. _

_ Rachel sits up straight inside of her bed in an attempt to make herself appear larger. The motion sends a shockwave of dizziness crashing through her skull, but she forces herself to push through it without faltering._

_ "Rachel, calm down…" Noah easily senses the adverse reaction and makes the suggestion. Risking a couple of slow, steady steps forwards, he attempts to make peace through assistance, but Rachel pulls away from the range of his touch before their skin can so much as connect._

_ "Don't tell me to calm down!" She bellows in her refusal to back down, in her refusal to give Noah yet another excuse to use in order to try and prove his initial theory of why it had been such a good idea to "protect" her through the art of silence in the first place. "You need to start telling me the truth and you need to start telling me it now, Noah. I deserve answers. Is Santana really… is she really dead?" _

"_Yes." _

_She pulls the answer from him with a surprising ease that throws her off slightly although her body does manage to relax into a satisfied silence._

_But in opposite fashion, Noah's face darkens eerily. Submissive with fear one second, at the blink of an eye he turns to stone. There is something that Rachel cannot positively identify hidden within the clouds inside of his eyes. Was it anger? Fear? Hate? Rachel can't be entirely sure, but either way it makes her terribly uncomfortable as she slowly begins to lose the edge of advantage that she had previously believed herself to have over her brother._

"_And she… she was my kidney donor?" Rachel does not sound nearly as confident in her bid for answers as she had just moments before, but she can't stop now. The question resonates from her lips with a deflating confidence that she tries desperately not to let show. She can't let Noah know that she is suddenly having second thoughts. She can't let him know that maybe, he was right all along._

"_Yes…"_

"_Jesus Christ…" Rachel mutters with a distinct air of disbelief despite the overwhelming evidence that is currently supporting the truth… Of course, deep down Rachel has known this truth all along. But before this, there was always the chance that she had heard Noah wrong the first time, that in her less than acute state of mind, she hadn't managed to interpret his words correctly… _

_That lingering hope was the one thing that had managed to push Rachel this far, and to lose it all in one fleeting moment… _

_She takes several concentrated breaths. In and out. In and out. Noah's face is neutral. He is experienced in that time has allowed him to process some of his grief. It is Rachel's turn to mourn now. Noah diligently waits for her to react. _

_ But Rachel straightens her face, refusing to give him that satisfaction. _

_ It scares her, the idea that she does not so much as want to cry for the loss of a friend before her brother for fear that he will mistake her anger for something much less… _

_She is not angry with him, Rachel is adamant on making that clear for herself, although for some reason, she is not ready for him to know this just yet. She is not angry with him but she is angry with his decision to remain silent. She is angry with his firm belief that she cannot handle these sorts of tragic situations when experience has proven time and time again that she is fit to handle absolutely anything…_

_She is angry with her situation. She is angry that she is alive and Santana is not when really, it is supposed to be her spending her morning being lowered inside of a hole in the ground right about now._

_In fact, Rachel is angry at a lot of things, Noah just so happens to be directly in the line of fire; the focal point to which all of her frustrations are currently concentrating. _

"_When is the funeral? I want to go." Rachel nods towards his outfit with a stiff bob of her head and an even stiffer voice in an effort to mask the true feelings that are presenting just behind it._

_ "It was this morning…" He murmurs apologetically, turning his eyes away as his sister sighs openly, burying her face inside of the palms of her hands so that she misses the fact that her brother's eyes fill with tears…_

_ It would be a long shot anyway – Rachel tries to reason – convincing the doctors to allow her out of the safety of the hospital in order to attend a funeral, but sneaking out would always be an option, Rachel already knows that she is a master at slipping away unnoticed. _

_ "Save it." In her frustration, her voice spits more harshly than what she had intended on, but Rachel simply is not in the mood to be apologized to anymore. "I just… I need some time alone, Noah. You need to go. Tell mom she has to leave too, I just… I want to be alone right now."_

_ "Rachel…"_

_ "Please, Noah!" She cuts him off abruptly. Her voice is full of tears that she refuses to allow to fall through the image of her brother's body physically sinking with defeat. He knows as well as she does that any opportunity that he thought he may have had for an argument is now over. _

_Noah stands silently to his feet, turning his back on Rachel without another word. His shoulders slump so far forward as he walks that Rachel is not entirely certain how he it is that he is managing to move without falling face down on the floor. _

_ He doesn't look back over his shoulder once while meanwhile Rachel, in an exact opposite fashion, doesn't take her eyes off of him._

_ She follows his straight path towards the door, watching as Shelby begins her approach once more, looking relatively cheery in her state of blissful oblivion, completely unaware of the storm that she has involuntarily chosen to throw herself directly into. _

_ It is with luck that Noah manages to readily intercept her, grabbing her by the elbow where he steers her away from Rachel's room and down the hall out of sight. There is no doubt in Rachel's mind that he is briefing her on the harrowing details of Rachel discovering their not so little secret… If there is one thing that Rachel has to be grateful for, it is this. If she couldn't handle a confrontation with her brother right now, Rachel knows that there is no way in hell that a conversation with her mother would be something that she could face. _

_Rachel wonders if she will ever be able to look Shelby in the eye again after all this. _

_Crossing her arms against her chest, Rachel huffs in her silence and allows the quiet to seep slowly inside of her veins._

_ Gradually, she finds herself struggling more and more to place all of these conflicting emotions that she is currently experiencing, reasoning that maybe if she simply does not think about them, she can conclude that they had never happened to begin with. _

_ She tries desperately to turn her brain off. With each futile attempt, her heart pounds faster inside of her chest until it is moving so quickly that it physically begins to hurt. It does not take very long for a loud, clearly audible sob to escape from the back of her throat. Rachel doesn't even try to hide it._

_Either way, nobody comes._

_Santana is dead._

_ The harder Rachel tries to avoid thinking about this, the more prominent the thought grows inside of the apex of her mind… Santana is dead and she is alive. It should be the other way around yet somehow, here they all are; living on without truly living. _

_The guilt is literally suffocating._

_Tears pour from her eyes until she can no longer breathe. Her throat closes into a pinpoint that barely allows the oxygen in but nobody comes to help her because she is supposed to be long dead anyway. Rachel is completely and utterly alone. _

_Santana is dead. _

_Santana has been dead for eight days. Rachel has already pushed her family away. She has scared away the one boyfriend that she has ever had and probably will ever have, and friends… what friends?_

_ The loneliness is devastating. _

_ It leaves her grasping for straws as she struggles violently to decide where it is that she will go from here, what it is that she will do next and how it is that she will possibly deal with this residual sorrow continuously screaming at her that maybe she would have been better off if things had gone differently around here after all._

* * *

><p><strong>Perfectly ImperfectXP<strong>** – Thank you so much for all of the support although I am sorry for all of the emotions! It means the world, thanks again for your kind words.**

**Miriami**** – Wow thank you so much! I truly am honored by all of your support it means more than you know! I'm glad you like little Noah and Rachel because writing them is definitely my favorite! The Corcoran's are definitely one tough family. It's makes you stop and realize that there really are families out there that have this much tragedy in their lives and haul through it so bravely. It's a bit of a motivating boost to get their stories down on paper, in a sense. I'm so glad I've helped you walk away with something to hold onto! Thanks again for all of your beautiful words.**

**Hazelbutton2002**** – I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed (well, as much as you could anyway). It was difficult writing off Santana that's for sure. But I will say that your emotions are very reflective of Rachel's, relieved to have been given this shot but at the same time, guilty for what happened to Santana, which we'll see more of in this last part of the epilogue. Thank you for reviewing!**

**Gleefanficfan**** - I'm glad you enjoyed! I love writing for Noah, even on the show I get the impression that he is so much deeper than what he lets on so it's fun to have the chance to explore that a little bit. There will be one more chapter after this one (if it is any consolation, it will be another long one!). I gotta say that I am definitely going to miss this family too. I'm still debating a sequel but we'll see. Thank you so much!**

**TheCdKnight**** - I know, I know I'm sorry! Rachel figured things out for herself but she is not too pleased about it. It will take a little while for her to be able to trust her family again but she will… I'm actually not sure who I like to see Rachel with on the show. I was indifferent about her and Finn for a long time but kind of started to hate Finn more and more through the seasons. I love Jesse's character but it's a love to hate him sort of thing so I didn't like him with Rachel and I gave up on watching Glee half way through season 3 so I don't know much about Brody except that the guy who plays him is gorgeous so I'm rooting for anything that he is a part of haha. Honestly, if I had to pick, I think that I would say that I like Puck and Rachel together the most although that definitely can't happen in this story haha. Thanks so much for the review!**

**Bueller806**** - Haha well I'm glad you made it through! I get what you're saying too and am gonna have to agree that I think I was a little bit bias towards keeping Rachel alive as tough as it was to write Santana's death. Thanks for the review!**

**Maddieluvsdanny**** - Wow, thank you so much! It means the world.**

**Stee79**** – Thank you for the lovely review! It's very much appreciated.**


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